


une chance de vivre

by ayebydan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, F/M, Gen, Independent Harry Potter, Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-09-24 04:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayebydan/pseuds/ayebydan
Summary: Three days pass as Harry lies beaten on his bedroom floor and no one comes. Harry realises he is the only person putting himself first and leaves number 4, fleeing to London where he finds new allies and begins to set up his own faction to take on the war and Voldemort. If that means going against Dumbledore with the help of his spy Parkinson and an insider at Gringotts so be it.





	1. the great escape

**Author's Note:**

> . Ok so I don't own anything as I am not the Queen and Overlady Jo. 
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> This story was first written in part in 2011 as part of nanowrimo. I hit the 50 thousand word mark and decided that because I did not edit as I went that it was clearly terrible and never looked at it for years. I also failed to write much fic for the next two years to burn out. This Autumn I stumbled across it on the old hard drive my friend had managed to free from my old laptop (with a nail file of all things). After reading it through I decided that I actually really love it and have spent the last couple of months dividing it up into chapters and cleaning it up. And writing new chapters. I have many to get me started but at some point I will end up having to write from scratch. This note also makes it clear, I hope, that while reviews and thoughts are welcome I am not going to alter my plot or add in x or y in major ways due to opinions because....literally been set in stone for 7 years. Interestingly for those who tell me 'when the walls came down (i was thinking about you)' should have plot points such as Harry storming off to the bank ect well this might be more your thing as this is the more stereotypical HP fanfic where he does more tropey stuff like that. I do hope that you enjoy. Despite my rumblings of things being set in stone, feedback is still welcome. And hey, this was nowhere near done at 50k so there are ways to influence it going forward. 
> 
> AyebydanX

The pounding in his head is what Harry is first aware of, a constant throb that wakes him after he has clearly passed out and keeps him awake later when he tries to get some more sleep to escape the ache in his bones. Vernon had not paid any attention to the Order’s warning and he certainly was not about to let Harry away with what happened to Dudley the previous summer whether it was actually Harry’s fault or not. In a twisted way, Harry could understand his uncle’s logic because at the end of the day if Harry did not live with them, or exist at all, there then Dudley would have been fine. Instead he had nearly had his soul sucked out. 

The first day had been fine but Vernon had spent a lot of his time peering out from behind the net curtains and looking suspiciously down the street. Harry did not think anything of it until now, while he is lying on his own floor dreading trying to move because he knows how much it will hurt; now he can’t breathe without his chest hurting and a searing pain going down his side. It might be a broken rib, and it might be something worse that Harry really does not want to think about. Something to do with his lungs. His Uncle had clearly been looking for Order members watching the house and when he was satisfied that no one was there to watch his nephew, he taught him a lesson. 

It had started with Harry being dragged up the stairs by his ear and thrown into his bedroom before the beating started, Vernon’s meaty fists pounding into Harry’s ribs and back until he was on the floor and his uncle could kick at his exposed frame. As had always been Vernon’s rule, he never touched Harry’s face. If any of the Order actually tuned up and saw Harry, he would look fine, and he had been keeping secrets about his abuse long so long that Vernon knew that he would never talk. 

“You think those freaks can intimidate me Potter? Not bloody likely!,” is the last thing Harry remembers being said to him before his uncle had left with a slam of the door and he had passed out from the pain in his side. It might have been last night; it might have been several days. Harry has no idea how long he has been lying there. He guesses not three days because he is still lying there and no one from the Order has come crashing in during the night. 

Harry groans and takes his glasses off and rubs his nose which is sore from having his glasses squashed into his face overnight, notices the sunlight creeping in his window, and turns onto his side before pushing himself up onto his knees and somehow getting to his feet. Crossing his bedroom, he winces as he falls onto his bed before glancing over at Hedwig’s cage and cursing when he sees that it is empty. Scowling, he starts to slowly pull his t-shirt off, hoping she will come back soon so he can send a message to the Order and they can get him the hell out of his house and away from his so called family. This was just his house, not his home; it never had been his home and never would be. Familiar thoughts start to cross his mind as he looks at the ugly red and purple bruises forming down his ribcage, thoughts about what it would have been like if it was the other way around and his parents had lived while Dudley’s had died. Would his mother have treated Dudley the way his Aunt Petunia treated him? He does not think so.

Everything he had ever heard about Lily Potter said no and Harry feels a flash of irritation as he reaches over the side of his bed and into his trunk for a clean t-shirt. It was not like he went out of his way to make them miserable or anything. 

It is when he is lying on his back thinking that he hears the tapping at the window. Glancing over at the window, he sees a shiny new padlock and chain holding the windows together, locking him in and apparently more importantly locking Hedwig out as she pecks at the window again with her beak and squawks at him.

"Bastard," Harry mutters with a scowl, as he clambers to his feet, moving to inspect the lock, “I can’t let you in Hedwig. He has put a ruddy lock on it.”

Tilting her head, the owl just looks at him but somehow seems to understand that he can’t let her back into the house and flies off. Harry hopes it is to Ron or Hermione and stares gloomily after her. Hedwig was one of the things that made his summers just that little bit more bearable and now she was gone after only a few days. As he thinks things over, a smile slowly crosses his face. If he does not have an owl, he can’t send a letter to the Order and they will be forced to come and check on him and hopefully when they see he has been locked into his room they will take him away. He only has to last a few more days.

Returning to his bed, Harry can only hope.

HPHPHPHP

Three days pass and no one comes. In fact, nothing comes, not even a letter from his friends arrives and Harry wonders bitterly if they have been banned from writing again. Not that he particularly wants to hear from them. Their sympathy and condolences over Sirius do not make him feel better and he certainly does not want to get a lecture from Hermione about how he needs to talk about his feelings. No, what he needs to do is make sure nothing like that ever happens again simply because of Harry’s own stupidity.

His aunt Petunia lets him out of his room during the day to do chores which he gets his breakfast and dinner for, pitiful as they are, but he is never allowed to leave the house. Dusting, hovering, window washing, and even ironing fill his days and Harry slowly starts to stew things over in his mind.

Why has no one come? Why had they put the three day rule in place and threatened his family, leading to Harry getting beaten black and blue, if they were not going to do anything? Why did Dumbledore let him live like this? His cupboard had been the address of his first letter to Hogwarts. Why had no one reacted to that? He thinks over the things he has been told, about the prophecy, about his supposed destiny and his mood darkens by the day. Spending his evening thinking over his time with Sirius and the life he might have had causes irritation and hurt turn to anger. Dumbledore could have got Sirius a fair trial. He was Albus Dumbledore of all people. Yet he had not. He had left Sirius to rot in Azkaban and even when he escaped and Dumbledore had seen evidence to confirm he was innocent he did nothing. Harry thinks over his life at Hogwarts, the danger he has been put in, the things he has faced and realises it has always been the same. Dumbledore never tells him anything that really matters until it is too late and it raises the question of what else is Dumbledore hiding from him.

In the middle of the night, six days and two missed letters after arriving at the Dursley’s, Harry remembers his second encounter with Lord Voldemort with the Philosopher’s Stone and the possessed Professor Quirrel that had been teaching with the Dark Lord coming out of his scull right under Dumbledore’s crooked nose. He had asked Dumbledore then why Voldemort went after him and if he had been told then... maybe Sirius would be alive. Harry could have trained, worked harder in school, been prepared. 

Instead Dumbledore had protected a childhood Harry had never really had in the first place and left him completely unprepared to face his future. Now he has topped it off by abandoning him. 

Something has to change. 

On the seventh day, Harry starts to plan his escape. If no one has bothered to check why he is not writing to them, Harry expects the Order is not bothering to keep an eye on the house either. They are probably doing something more useful with their time like chasing Death Eaters or at least Harry hopes that is what they are doing. Gringotts has to be one of his first stops because if there is one thing he is certain about it is that he needs to get out from under Dumbledore’s thumb and for that he needs to be independent from his influence. It breaks his heart to realise it but that means no Weasleys and no Hermione, both too close to Dumbledore, and he needs money and somewhere else to stay. Diagon Alley is obviously not safe but if Harry can get to Gringotts he muses, he can change galleons into pounds and disappear into the muggle world for the summer until he figures out his next move. 

When his Aunt Petunia unlocks his door on the eighth morning, Harry has his trunk packed and his jacket on, and she jumps at the site of her nephew who quickly snaps, “How would you like rid of me? Permanently.”

Petunia screws up her horse like face and eyes him with suspicion, “We cannot get rid of you, however much we would like to. You have to stay until you are of age in your world,” she replies before pressing her lips together and turning on her heel.

“Is that what Dumbledore told you?” Harry asks quickly, freezing his aunt in her tracks at the stop of the stairs. Gripping the banister tightly she turns and eyes him with suspicion before nodding, “Well I, for one, am done playing by his rules. I do nott want to be here. You do not want me here and I don’t give a damn what Dumbledore wants anymore.”

“You tried this before boy and we were forced to take you back,” Petunia hisses, wearily looking downstairs where Harry can hear Vernon and Dudley having their breakfast, before she moves back towards his room. 

Harry nods, looking a lot calmer than he feels before playing his trump card, “My godfather is dead. He is dead because Dumbledore failed to tell me what I needed to know. People I know seem to have a habit of dying. I reckon you would be safer if you helped me get away from here without Dumbledore knowing. I will sort the rest. You will not see me ever again.”

“And just how am I meant to help you?” Petunia scoffs, “Can’t you do anything you need to with your thing?"

This time Harry laughs, coldly, and stares at her with so much hate that she takes a step back from him, “If I could use my wand do you really think I would have let Uncle Vernon knock me out cold that night. I still have bruises and it still hurts when I move. You know I can’t use it during the summer which means to disappear without them being able to trace me, I can’t use magic.”

“Don’t use that word!” Petunia hisses, glancing over her shoulder at the stairs fearfully, “What do you need boy?”

Harry just rolls his eyes, “Money. Give me enough money to get a train to London and I promise you will never see me again.”

“That is it?” Petunia asks, in a disbelieving tone.

“That is it,” Harry confirms with a nod, “They - my people I mean- will not be able to trace me if I do not use anything magical to get away. Once I get to London, I can disappear like a normal teenager and stay away from Dumbledore until I get back to school.”

“And next summer?” Petunia asks carefully.

“When I turn seventeen, I will be an adult in my world. I will find a way to avoid coming back between the end of school and before my birthday. I just need enough money to get away.”

Petunia purses her lips and nods, “I will phone, and pay, you a taxi to the train station. I will not have you trundling down the streets with that trunk and a bird cage of all things. What would the neighbours think?! You have caused enough talk already over the years. Then...yes, I will give you money to get to London and then I never ever want to see you darkening my doorstep again.”

Harry scowls, “Trust me, I won’t.”

“Good,” Petunia states harshly with a nod before turning and scurrying off into her room before reappearing a few minutes later with a fistful of notes that she shoves into Harry’s hands before heading off down the stairs. Unravelling them, Harry notes she has given him more than she really needs to for the fairs and smiles sadly. It might even get him his first night in London if he is lucky and it feels ironic that she has given him so much after giving him so little before yet if Harry has learned anything over the years it is to know better than to look a gift horse in the eye. 

He certainly knows not to ask his aunt questions. 

Anyway, it is probably the least he deserves. 

HPHPHP

It is not until he reaches the train station that he starts to get twitchy and nervous. It would have been unlikely that he was just taking a taxi somewhere around town but still possible. However, a train to London is a lot more obvious. More than a few people lower their newspapers to raise an eyebrow at the boy wrestling a bird’s cage onto the train with an old fashioned trunk but no one comments, especially as Harry decides it is easier to sit in a fold up chair by the door than try to get down into one of the carriages. A seat, after all, is still a seat. He cannot decide if it is more or less conspicuous that the bird cage is, for now, empty. 

‘What will Dumbledore do when he realises that I have gone?’ Harry wonders, while glancing at the countryside that is flashing past him. He thinks he might like to see more of it one day. It is oddly and painfully ironic for him to realise this is probably the most of the countryside he has been in his entire life apart from his journeys to Hogwarts and back. He is destined to save a world he has barely even seen. Everything has been boxed in and protected, limited, or kept on a strict time limit with guards and warnings. The summer before his third year springs to mind when he thinks about it has one of the only times he was truly free to be a teenager. Free at all to be himself. Just Harry.

The thought just makes him angry so he tries to put it to the back of his mind and enjoy his journey. Strangely when he gets to London he finds his baggy clothes do not stand out as much as they would normally and he asses a group for teenagers that for reason he cannot fathom appear to be trying to look like him as he leaves the train station. 

'I am not sure that I really understand people,’ Harry thinks while heading for the taxis parked outside the station and grinning as he approaches one black cab with a friendly looking older driver while realising he can fit his trunk and Hedwig’s cage into the back of it without too many problems. He had envisioned having to walk for miles but his aunt's sudden generosity, probably spurred by guilt, is giving him options and he feels oddly luxurious. 

“Where to lad?” the driver asks as Harry slides in beside his trunk which is not even given a second glance by the driver because working in London he has probably seen stranger things.

“Leister Square, please,” Harry responds with a grin, strangely excited about his first taxi ride in a proper black cab, and it hits him that it is the little things in life that spur a person on. For the first time since he left Privet Drive he does not feel overly anxious or fearful and is not overcome by a sense of determination to fix things or a need to simply survive. For once, Harry simply enjoys the ride. 

“Strange cage you’ve got there innit lad?” the driver asks, while navigating the numerous one way streets and road works. 

“I’ve got a pet uh parrot and I had to get her a new cage,” Harry responds, thinking a pet parrot is probably slightly more socially acceptable than a pet owl. 

“Kids these days,” the driver chuckles, “I sure would not want to be lugging that around London at rush hour! A pet parrot of all things. Suppose you will be hoping it talks or something!” 

“Nah, I am not bothered but I have a friend who I’m sure would love that,” Harry replies enthusiastically, thinking of Hagrid and making a mental note to tell him what muggles have trained some birds to do. He had never heard of anyone in the magical world doing the same but as Harry is beginning to realise, that might because he hasn’t paid all that much attention to the magical world outside Hogwarts and he might have missed something. 

As the taxi driver focuses more on the road, Harry’s mind wanders to what else he does not know about the wizarding world. Despite nearly being thrown out of it and having a full scale trial before the wizengamot, farce or not, Harry does not know much about how wizarding government works or much about the politics beyond the fact that they are horrendously corrupt and appear to be ridiculously backwards by muggle standards in many ways. It makes him realise that there is so much more that he needs to find out if he is to stand any chance of navigating the political side of things to escape Dumbledore’s control, defeat Voldemort and most importantly, survive. 

What else is out there that they do not teach at Hogwarts he wonders. His careers meeting with his head of house had been disappointing in many ways. Harry was not sure he wanted to be an Auror for a corrupt system or that if he did defeat Voldemort that he would even want to keep fighting yet he does not really know what else was out there. The meeting at school had sort of descended into a dick measuring contest between his Head of House and the Ministry stooge and did little to set him up for the future. It strikes him, as he is stuck in traffic in a taxi in muggle London on the run from those who say they have his best interests at heart, that he never had his world explained to him properly. Diagon Alley surely cannot be the only place people shop in Britain outside Hogsmeade and other countries must have similar places and it is high time that Harry finds out about them. 

Knowledge of the legal system and other places to go and get what he needs shoot to the top of his mental to-do list, which he muses he should probably write down at some point. Maybe Hermione’s ramblings were having an effect on him after all. 

“Alright lad, that is us here. That will be fifteen pounds seventy please,” the taxi driver states cheerfully, snapping Harry out of his musings and he is a little taken aback by the price. 

‘That is London for you’ he thinks wryly while getting out of the cab and pulling his things onto the pavement.

“Good luck with the parrot!” the driver shouts as he drives off and Harry can’t help but start his walk down the street in search of a cheap Bed and Breakfast with a smile on his face. Walking down the side streets away from the main square Harry stumbles across a row of small hotels and Bed and Breakfasts which are close enough to the muggle parts of London and within walking distance of the Leaky Cauldron as well and promptly ignores the brightly coloured neat one he sees first in favour of a more sorry looking establishment further down the road. It is probably one of the last places the Order or Dumbledore would think to look for him and he doubts he will draw too much attention to himself staying there for a few weeks until school goes back if he needs to.

It is a townhouse that, sitting back from the street up several steps with a decent garden, has been converted for use as a Bed and Breakfast with longer grass than the establishment further down the road and paint chipping off parts of the front door but it looks decent enough. Looking down at his own clothes Harry knows better than to judge a book by its cover and investigates a board with the prices on it down at the bottom of the garden at street level. The rates are low, and that suits Harry just fine because it means he just has enough to cover his first night before getting to Gringotts the next day and converting some of his savings into pounds for the summer. 

With a smile, Harry starts hauling his trunk up the front steps and twenty minute later he has checked himself in to a cheap but cheerful enough room that instantly becomes the Headquarters of his own personal mission to get his life sorted and agreed breakfast times with Mrs Mason, the lovely old lady running the place.


	2. an unexpected letter

Exhausted from his trip, Harry had fallen asleep after flopping down on his bed for what he thought would be a quick rest and woken up the following morning to the sound of tapping on his window.

 

“M’tired Hedwig, come back later,” he moans before realising what he is saying and sitting bolt upright with a wide grin, “Hedwig! You found me!”, he shouts while scrambling to his feet and going over to fight with the old window catch until he can let Hedwig in. She immediately hops onto his shoulder and nuzzles his face with her own as he pets her gently, “Smart girl! I knew you would find me. Hang on, sit in your cage and I will get you something to eat.”

 

The return of his faithful companion puts a spring in Harry’s step and he feels content in his small room feeding her owl treats while realising that he has obviously managed to go his first night without being discovered. ' _They might not even have noticed that I have gone yet_ ' Harry ponders while putting some treats into Hedwig’s food tray and giving her another pat before he heads over to his trunk and gathers some clean clothes to freshen up.

 

Checking his old battered watch, he notices it is still breakfast time and glances around his room again before slipping out and heading downstairs to get something to eat, offering a smile to Mrs Mason and a courteous nod to her other guest who Harry presumes is a businessman from the suit he is wearing.

 

“Morning dear, what can I get for you?” Mrs Mason asks before gesturing to the spread laid out behind her.

 

Harry takes a look and smiles again, “Just some toast would be great, and ah, some fresh orange juice please.” 

 

Mrs Mason nods and sets about putting some toast on behind her and Harry starts to think about his plans for the day. Money is first on his list and then a few books if he can get around Diagon Alley without attracting too much attention to himself. He needs books and knowledge and he needs it _fast_. Voldemort has had decades to learn about magic and Harry has had five years of schooling. It almost puts him off his breakfast just thinking about it. As he starts on his toast he briefly considers contacting Ron and Hermione and his chest constricts as he thinks about it a little more, _'I can’t go to them_ ’ Harry thinks to himself, ‘ _I don’t know how close they are to Dumbledore. Hermione trusts him so blindly that she might tell him where I am and I can’t go back to the Dursleys to get beaten up again and I need to prepare for this war! Ron can’t keep anything from Hermione and I can’t risk Mrs Weasley knowing. She just treats me like a kid all the time._ ’

 

No, if Harry wants to do what needs to be done, he realises, then he will have to do it alone. Finishing off his breakfast, he thanks Mrs Mason, gives the business man who is still sat reading his paper another wave and hurries back up to his room to access his things and write a list of what he needs to get a hold of. After fiddling with his ink and quill he decides a pad and paper might be a good start because it will be less hassle, and a heck of a lot tidier Harry thinks to himself while scowling as he notices the ink stain down the side of his hand.

 

“What do I need to think about Hedwig?” Harry asks his trusty companion who merely hoots softly at him, “I guess I did not really think a lot of this through did I? As usual. I need books, clothes, and information. Allies! I need to know what Voldemort is doing and I don’t trust Dumbledore to tell me and I certainly don’t trust _Snape_ of all people,” he mutters to himself on the bed, “It is too dangerous to get someone to teach me unless they are _my_ allies and not Dumbledore’s but I don’t know where to start with working out who to trust anymore,” he scoffs to Hedwig who blinks at him as he waves his quill about in front of him, “No, I need to study and teach myself to be a stronger wizard and keep Voldemort out of my head. There must be another way to learn it.”

 

Hedwig’s hoots snap Harry out of his stupor and he smiles to himself sheepishly as he realises he is rambling away to himself. It is helpful to the young wizard though because he feels he has a better idea of what he is going for as he grabs a hoody and pulls it on before shoving what is left of his muggle money into one pocket and his wizarding gold into the other.

 

“Wallet,” Harry mutters to himself while ticking his wand into the front pocket of the hoody, “Definitely need a wallet.” It strikes the young wizard as truly bizarre that wizards have come up with so many amazing things and yet haven’t thought of paper money. It was so much easier than hauling around bags of gold all the time. He was aware that some wizards used a system similar to cheques if they were better off but really, what a fuss.

 

Shaking his head, he heads down the stairs of the B&B after double checking his door is locked and out into the city.  The paranoia that he’s about to be found at any moment settles back into his bones the moment he turns onto Leister Square which seems both a sensible reaction and a ridiculous one at the same time because he still doesn’t even know if the Order realises he is gone. Clearly they had not been keeping a very close eye on him before, he thinks to himself darkly.

 

Still, every girl that Harry sees with pink hair is Tonks and any flash of red is a Weasley come to get him and drag him back to Dumbledore and Grimmauld Place and the memories of Sirius and how much he hated that place. Pulling the hood of Dudley’s old jumper up and pulling the strings until he has covered as much of his face as he can, Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look at the ground as much as possible while making his way towards the Leaky Cauldron.

 

He has definitely come too far to get caught now.

 

His anxiety heightens when he sees the old sign sticking out from beside a muggle music shop and it only gets worse as he steps into the pub itself. The place is heaving and Harry immediately recognises a few faces from school but he is lucky enough to get through to the back without anyone noticing him and slips into the Alley, as an older witch passes him with her granddaughter, without any trouble.

 

He keeps to the side of the Alley and as before tries to avoid looking up too much, using his skills from his childhood to navigate without being seen because it was safer then, and it feels ironic to be using those same skills to avoid the same man who had seemed like the key to escaping that life. The very man who keeps sending him back to it, the dull ache that still has not faded from his ribs reminds him. Gringotts looms large over the Alley and it is only when inside that Harry relaxes even a little. Goblins can’t be trusted but they can’t be bribed the same way wizards can and Harry feels safer in the bank than outside it. He doesn’t recognise anyone inside the lobby but that doesn’t mean a lot to him, not anymore, because anyone could be in the Order and any face could be masking Tonks.

 

Making his way swiftly to one of the counters, Harry slips his key onto the counter and mutters, “I need to see Griphook, please.”

 

If the goblin making notes behind the counter is shocked to realise Harry knows another goblin’s name he doesn’t show it, merely nods and climbs down from his chair and heads off down the aisle before disappearing into another room and reappearing with another goblin a second later.

 

“You wished to see me, Mr Potter?” Griphook asks with a curious stare.

 

“Yes, you were the goblin that took me to my vault the first time I came here. I’d like you to take me again. I like dealing with the same uh, beings each time I go somewhere,” Harry answers, sure by the look of respect he gains from the goblin that not referring to him as a lesser being just earned him some brownie points. Tucking away that piece of information Harry hopes it might just come in handy later.

 

“ Right away sir, follow me,” Griphook rumbles, leading Harry towards the carts to take him to his vault. Clambering in, Harry grins, receiving a strange look from the goblin, “One of those wizards that likes to fly I presume,” Griphook asks, receiving an enthusiastic nod in reply, “Strange beings you lot are. There is no gold hidden in the sky.”

 

Harry smiles again, thinking of the freedom he feels in the air, “That depends on what your treasure is.”

 

Griphook does not reply, just starts the cart hurtling off down into the bowels of the bank. Harry feels a burst of adrenaline as the cart reaches its top speed, laughs to himself as he feels his hair being blow backwards, his clothes flapping as the hurtle around a corner. He is disappointed when it stops and is still laughing softly as he clambers out of the cart and watches Griphook amble towards his vault door with a lantern.

 

With nothing better to do as he waits, Harry gazes around at his surroundings and shudders. As far as he can see there is just darkness and an eerie quiet. It is like the cart’s tracks disappear into nothingness and his stomach does an unpleasant flip at the idea of being stuck down in the bowels of Gringotts because he had tried to steal something. You would have to be mad he thinks to himself while rocking back on his heels and suddenly understanding a lot better why people had been so shocked to learn that someone had risked it in his first year.

 

“Mr Potter,” Griphook growls snapping Harry out his stupor and making him jump slightly.

 

“Sorry,” Harry mutters before heading into his vault and pulling out his coin sack and shoving as many as he can in.

 

“Mr Potter, it is our understanding at Gringotts that your magical guardian Sirius Black is now deceased, is that correct?” Griphook suddenly asks, making Harry flinch and then pause with a handful of sickles in his hand.

 

“Um, yes?” Harry replies carefully, “Why does that matter to the bank?”

 

“As you have been informed this means that you are now in charge of your finances, because as Mr Black detailed in his will, the reading of which you failed to attend, that you were to be emancipated upon his death. It is my duty as the first member of the bank to deal with your finances since then to enquire as to whether you wish the contents of this trust vault to be added to the main Potter vault or whether you wish for your affairs to be left in their current condition?”

 

Harry drops the bag of gold he is holding and feels his knees weaken, moving to sit on the cold stone floor as he stares at Griphook in complete shock, “I’ve been what? Sirius had a will reading? I...I have another vault? I...have no idea what in Merlin’s name you are talking about. I am not aware of...well any of this.”

 

To Harry, Griphook looks as shocked as a goblin can and tilts his head before slowly asking, “We informed you of the financial details and of the reading of the will in the letter we sent to you after Mr Black’s death.”

 

“I...I never got any letters,” Harry states hollowly, “I’ve never had any letters from Gringotts at all.”

 

“Curious and most unfortunate,” Griphook replies calmly, “Mr Potter, if you finish your business here, I will take you up to my office and explain things further. It seems I need to explain a great many things to you and check some records on your finances.”

 

“Er, right, sure,” Harry mumbles, slowly getting to his feet and continuing to gather some money before heading back to the cart and placing his head in his hands as Griphook locks up his vault. Another vault, emancipation, his own godfather’s _will reading_! What else was Albus ruddy Dumbledore hiding from him? In that moment, Harry is not entirely sure he even wants to know. Hiding this sort of thing was not about safety; it could only be about control. ‘ _I am the weapon_ ’ Harry thinks to himself gloomily as they reach the surface again, ‘ _I’m the weapon that needs to be carefully taken control of so I don’t blow up in his face_ ’

 

Griphook leads him from the cart but instead of taking him back into the main hall of the bank he leads Harry down another cavern the teenager had never noticed before, taking him through a door that leads to a corridor of doors which Harry realises must be the offices Griphook was talking about before. The goblin leads him about halfway down and then presses his finger to one of the doors which Harry then hears click several times before creaking open. Griphook gestures for Harry to enter and the boy does so with the goblin following behind, taken aback by how _normal_ it looks and the way it is no different from the bank offices Harry had seen in shows on his aunt and uncle’s TV as a child. Griphook requests that Harry make himself comfortable while he fetches the relevant paperwork before disappearing into another room and Harry takes a seat and waits quietly until Griphook returns and places a file on his desk.

 

“Mr Potter, Gringotts has been sending you bank statements of your various vaults every year on your birthday for the past five years. Am I correct in believing you have failed to receive any of them?” Griphook begins, his words slow and deliberate as he peers over the desk at Harry who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Yes, that is right,” Harry mutters.

 

“Interesting. Am I also correct in thinking that you did not receive the summons to the will reading of one Sirius Orion Black?”

 

“Correct,” Harry nods, wondering where this is all going.

 

“Mr Potter, please may I inspect you using my magic? A goblin doesn’t need to wield a wand, which is just as well as your Ministry doesn’t believe us smart enough to do so, and I wish to test a hunch I have. I believe that you have been placed under some form of enchantment that is preventing you from receiving your mail. If you allow me to inspect you, I can clarify this hunch,” Griphook asks, tilting his head and holding his hands out to gesture that he truly means Harry no harm.

 

Harry feels his stomach turn uncomfortably and he stares at Griphook with wide eyes as he thinks things over. No he hadn’t ever had any mail from the bank and come to think of it, when at school certainly he hardly got any mail at all! He was supposed to be famous and yet he never received any letters or Merlin help him,   _fan mail_ he thought with a shudder. Now that he was forced to think about it, that didn’t make any sense. Noticing Griphook is still looking at him and waiting expectantly Harry nods, not feeling he has too much to lose by this point and Griphook is the first being to be truthful with him in a while.

 

“Sure, go ahead. I want to know the truth,” Harry says with a defiant nod. Griphook returns the nod and waves his hand across Harry’s face, closing his eyes for a few seconds and when he opens them he raises an eyebrow.

 

“It would seem Mr Potter that my assumptions were in fact correct,” Griphook states without the slightest of sympathy for the boy who slumps visibly in his chair looking devastated at the news, “If you wish, I can remove said enchantment though, as the boy-who-lived in the wizarding world, I suspect this may lead to an increase in your mail.”

 

At that Harry gives an undignified snort, “ That would be an understatement but I would rather know the truth so yeah please take it off,” Harry requests while making a mental note to call on Dobby when he gets out of the bank. If he is going to have a lot of mail, he had better get someone on board to deal with it all.

 

Griphook nods once more and closes his eyes again, waving his hand around several times as Harry feels a chill go through him before the goblin nods.

 

“It has been done,” Griphook states, not giving Harry a chance to thank him before carrying on, “ As you missed the reading of your godfather’s will, I have created a copy for you to see now.”

 

Harry takes the offered paper with dread, not wanting to look at it because it means Sirius really is dead and he has to let go of his hopes that it is just a terrible mistake and he is going to come back to him. His stomach churns and he feels a lump in his throat as he reads over the specifics, noting that the Black family home now belongs to him along with Kreature and another property in France. The thought of owning Kreature, one of the reasons that Sirius is dead, makes Harry feel physically sick. Noticing the sheer amount of gold he has inherited Harry’s eyes widen. It is not a fortune but it is not a bad sum either. Nodding to himself and taking a deep breath, Harry places the paper back on the desk and looks back to Griphook.

 

“Here are copies of your latest bank statements,” Griphook says, pushing another few papers forward and waving his hand at the copy of the will, which promptly disappears, “Is there anything else you require Mr Potter while you read over them?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I want to change some gold into muggle money please, and I want one of those cheque book things wizards use so I don’t have to carry so much around,” Harry replies brightly, digging in his pocket for his gold sack and tipping a decent amount of it onto the counter.

 

“Yes Sir,” Griphook murmurs while gathering up the gold and bustling out of the office, leaving Harry to look over his papers.

 

The first thing he notices is the other Potter vault that Griphook had mentioned before. It contains enough gold to allow Harry to live a comfortable if not extravagant lifestyle without working if his calculations are correct and it makes his blood boil and magic crackle around him to think about yet another thing Dumbledore had hid from him for no reason.  Added to the Black family fortune, Harry had enough money to disappear and live a quiet life!

 

His heart sinks. So that was the reason Dumbledore tried to hide his inheritance from Sirius and his parents from him; so that he couldn’t run away. Maybe if the man had just been honest with Harry from the start he would  have no need to worry about that the young wizard thinks savagely.  It does make Harry feel more secure though because now he can get what he needs without worrying about funding things so much and really if he makes it to the end of the war he will be happy to work for a living and not have a knut of his savings left because he used it to do something worthwhile. It is not like he can take it with him to the other side if it comes down to that.

 

Griphook returns and places a pile of crisp new notes on his desk along with a small leather bound books which Harry picks up to inspect, finding it to be the cheque book he was looking for. Griphook promptly shows Harry how to use it and Harry shoves his money into various pockets before turning expectantly back to the Goblin.

 

“From now on Mr Potter, you will receive a bank statement every quarter from the bank and should you choose to make any investments with your gold then Gringotts will send you information as and when required. If you do require any further aid you can send an owl to the bank and we will do our utmost to help,” Griphook rumbles and Harry nods happily, glad to be treated like the young adult he is becoming for once.

 

“Thank you Griphook. I think that is everything for now,” Harry replies, rising to his feet and reaching out to shake the goblins hand.

 

Griphook stares at him in shock for a moment before taking it and laughing, a strange grumbling noise in the back of his throat that startles Harry, “You are a strange wizard, Mr Potter. It is rare that one of your kind should treat one of mine as an equal.”

 

A dark look crosses Harry’s faces as he straightens up and pulls the hood back up over his head before replying, “I have spent too many years being treated like a lesser being by my own family. It isn’t a feeling I would inflict on anyone else, especially when there is absolutely no reason for it.”

 

“Strange wizard indeed,” Griphook mumbles while leading him from the room, down the corridor past several statues of goblins with pickaxes raised high above their heads, and back into the main foyer of the bank, “Good day to you.”

 

Harry offers him a half smile, grateful the goblin had not used his name, and hurries down the side of the foyer, so focussed on hurrying that he doesn’t notice Fleur Delacour until he’s knocked her to the floor,

 

“I am so sorry!” Harry stutters, rushing to help her up, watching her eyes widen as she realises who has knocked her and her paperwork to the ground and pleading with her silently not to say anything too loud.

 

“ _Arry?!_ What are you doing ‘ere?" Fleur whispers while steadying herself on her feet.

 

“Getting my life back,” Harry mutters, nervously glancing around.

 

“From Dumbledore oui?” Fleur asks quietly and Harry looks at her sharply, “Ee is a very strange man, ‘Arry. I do not trust ‘im. Ee ask me to join ‘is group non? I say non. Power corrupts ‘Arry Potter. Remember zat.”

 

Harry’s eyes widen, stomach flipping at Fleur’s words, “You didn’t join?”

 

Fleur shakes her head, her beautiful blond hair swinging around her shoulders, “Non. There are more ways to fight ze Dark Lord than with Dumbledore. It is not ‘im who has fought ‘im these past years. Is you ‘Arry.”

 

Fleur looks defiant, starting deep into Harry’s eyes and he is suddenly remembered why she was a Tri-Wizard champion. The goblet only picked the best of the best.

 

“Look, Fleur, I don’t want anyone to know I was here I need to....look, I’m....”

 

Fleur tilts her head and reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, “I did not see you ‘ere. Vous n’avez qu’une chance de vivre non?,” and seeing Harry’s confused look she smiles and removes her hand, “You only get one chance to live. Do what you need to do and if you ever need anything, I am ‘ere for you. You, not ‘im,” and with that Fleur glances around and continues on her way towards the door Harry had just come out of.

 

 Nodding, Harry slips, out of the bank and back into the alley.

 

He immediately feels less secure and quickly makes his way towards the book shop, Flourish and Blotts, ducking inside and hurrying towards the Defence section before he realises he has been holding his breath. Puffing out his cheeks he carefully looks around and is relieved to realise he doesn’t recognise anyone. Feeling a little calmer he starts to look through the shelves, flicking through various books on both offensive and defensive magic before picking up one of each and moving to the Charms section, repeating his search in the Transfiguration section before moving towards the section entitled ‘Magic of the Mind’.

 

Many titles stand out at first glance and Harry knows that if he starts to look through them he will end up stuck there all day and probably get discovered and ruin everything so instead focuses completely on finding what he is looking for. Books on occlumency. ‘ _Maybe if I had tried harder at this stuff, Sirius would still be alive_ ’ Harry thinks to himself bitterly while leafing through the pages of a heavy tomb on the subject. There is no way he will let Severus Snape teach him again but it is something he begrudgingly realises he should know, even if he has to spend loads of time teaching himself how to do it. No one else was going to die because he couldn’t tell the difference between dreams and reality.

 

Harry has never really been able to tell what a good book is and what isn’t and he certainly doesn’t want to bring attention to  himself by asking the shopkeeper so he takes a chance and picks up one of the middle-sized volumes before heading to the counter and setting them down. He waits patiently to be noticed rather than calling out and carefully avoids looking the middle aged witch in the eye for fear of being recognised. If the woman thinks anything of the type of books Harry is purchasing then she doesn’t mention it and he is grateful to hand over his money and get on his way.

 

He navigates the alley as quickly as he can, picking up various supplies, before leaving and returning to muggle London, instantly feeling more relaxed as he blends in to the crowds of people. Harry winds his way through the throngs of people, taking more of it in this time now that he isn’t pulling his trunk and a huge cage along with him, and enjoying the scenery and the atmosphere. Everything seems so _vibrant,_ very literally a world away from what he is used to. He passes street artists miming in the street, posing as artists, buskers and dancers just moving around the streets surrounding Leister Square and when he heads into a small local corner short to pick up some bits and pieces it is with a big smile on his face.

 

When he’s stood in the confectionary and crisps aisle it strikes Harry that he’s never had his choice of foods in the muggle world before. He really doesn’t know what to start with, what he will like, and so fetches himself a basket with another smile and promptly begin to pick things up at random, throwing in everything from snickers to malteasers and milkyways before adding several bags of crisps and a bottle of coke on the way to the check out. Somehow he finds himself flirting with the check-out girl and when she hands him his change she tells him to remember where she works making Harry laugh.

 

It is not until he is back in his room at the Bed and Breakfasts that Harry is brought crashing back to reality. He immediately notices the owl on the window ledge and curses as he rushes across the room while throwing his bag on the bed and fiddling with the locks to let the owl in. Harry peers out the window to check if anyone has noticed but doesn’t see any bewildered stares so slams the window shut and scowls at the owl that hoots softly from the bedpost and holds out their leg.

 

“Who sent you huh?” Harry murmurs while taking the letter and watching the owl for signs of wanting to leave. The owl doesn’t move so Harry fetches it some of Hedwig’s owl treats, petting his own bird when she hoots in protest, before moving to sit down on the bed and open the envelope. He doesn’t recognise the handwriting.

 

_Harry Potter_

_I have never written to you before. Please read the entirety of this letter before making your judgement on it. My name is Pansy Parkinson. I am sure you are as shocked to be receiving this letter as I was to realise I had to write it. I should start by stating I believed everything that you said last year because I had seen evidence of it for myself. I saw things I would not wish anyone to witness about the movements of the Dark Lord and his followers._

_I don’t want this war. I don’t want to serve a half-blood maniac and I don’t want to die for a cause I don’t believe in. To be frank, I don’t like muggle born witches and wizards because they are ignorant of my culture and hold children that were raised in the wizarding world back but I certainly don’t want them dead. I want to have a life Potter, not be a murderer. I have no interest in being marked but recent events and those in motion show that being neutral and standing back to do nothing is no longer an option._

_I believe it is in both of our interests for me to help you in this war. I don’t want to go into specifics but I hope that my openness with my opinions will allow you to trust me enough to meet with me. You can dictate the specifics of the meeting and I will be there._

_In confidence,_

_Pansy Parkinson_


	3. Persephone and Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy and Harry meet. And get new names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, 50k of this is set is set in stone and has been for 7 years. 
> 
> In comments in the last chapter I dealt with multiple reviewers that questioned Pansy's thinking. Pansy's thinking is a deliberate issue and plot point. Give me some chaps yeah?

Harry is very glad he’s sitting down so that he doesn’t fall down when he is finished reading the letter which he promptly drops to the floor. ‘That was unexpected’ he thinks vaguely to himself before trying to dredge up every memory he has of his classmate and their every encounter. Pug faced, shrieking laugh, usually hanging off Malfoy and a nasty piece of work are the things that first come to mind as he puffs out his cheeks and falls back on the bed, taking his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes with his hands. 

Allies were what he had wanted but Pansy Parkinson writing to him was not something he could even begin to imagine when he left his relative’s house. For a brief moment he thinks it might be some sort of sick joke but when he reads the letter over again, Pansy’s words somehow ring true. She had been very open with him about her stance on things and when he goes through his memories of her, Harry can’t remember being openly violent towards anyone. Bullying and nasty sure but the same could be said for any number of students in any of the houses. The Slytherins had always been ostracised within the school, partly of their own making and mostly by others, and Harry was positive a number of the students in that house would willingly join Voldemort’s war effort such as Draco Malfoy, his goons Crabbe and Goyle and Nott. The girls he has never paid enough attention to in order to be sure but statistically it was likely that Voldemort would find a lot of support in his former house, putting those that didn’t want to fight in the difficult situation that Pansy was clearly alluding to in her letter. Draco Malfoy certainly did not strike Harry as the sort of man to allow neutrals within his camp. 

They were at war and everyone was going to have to pick a side one way or another by the end of it. Harry’s stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought. They were only children. The offer to dictate the meeting time and place swings Harry’s mind and he fetches some parchment and a quill and scribbles down a reply as his mind churns over whether he is doing the right thing. He names Hyde Park because it is only one he knows in London and a monument he has seen on the TV and trusts himself to find as the meeting place for the next day and states they will be in plain view of muggles to offer him protection. She can take it or leave it. From what he knows of Pansy’s grades, she is a clever enough witch and will not attack him in broad daylight surrounded by muggles. Or at least Harry hopes so. 

“Come here then,” Harry mutters to Pansy’s owl, attaching the letter before holding out his arm to carry the large black bird to the window again, “Hopefully I will see you sometime soon. Never thought I’d be saying that about pug-faced Parkinson’s owl.”

The owl gives him a stiff look and then flies off and Harry huffs as he shuts the window again and flops back down on the bed, reaching into the bag he’s chucked down earlier and picking out a random chocolate bar to munch on as he thinks. If Pansy wanted to meet him, it could be interesting, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself about what she might be offering. That only leads to disappointment. It does however bring home how few allies he actually has that he can trust. Pansy will certainly not be under Dumbledore’s thumb but he has no idea about others. Until they send word to him, Harry does not want to contact any possible allies within the Order in case he raises the alarm to his own disappearance by doing so but outside the Order, he only has his friends and even some of them he can’t be sure about. As he works on his twix, Harry surmises that Luna is a safe bet, if a little odd, for sticking by him and through her he will have access to the press to get his side of things out and combat any bile that the Prophet comes out with if he needs to. Then there is Fleur, which was a totally unexpected but appreciated curveball. As he had thought earlier, the goblet never crowns fools champions and having her on his side will be valuable. For some reason, the knowledge that he has at least one ally that is actually of age is actually comforting and makes him feel less like he is trying to win a war with adults using children. Especially as he does not want to have to use anyone at all. 

Sighing, he crumbles up his sweetie wrapper and pulls out of bottle of coke, setting it to the side before pulling the first spell book he can reach out of his shopping bag and settling into the pillows on his bed. 

“Time to get started,” he declares defiantly to the empty room, “Transfiguration here I come.”

HPHPHPHP

Harry is pleasantly surprised to find himself hurrying through Hyde Park the following morning. He was not sure that he expected a reply from Parkinson but was intrigued to find out what she had to say. His morning had been spent sorting mail into piles as without Dumbledore’s enchantment, Harry had woken up to more than a few owls outside his window and a very concerned look from a woman hanging out her washing in the garden of the townhouse next door. There were a few pieces of fan mail to go with a few pieces of hate mail that he wasn’t going to open any time soon in case they were cursed and a very interesting letter from Witch Weekly requesting he finally give them an interview which gave him a chuckle. 

There was nothing from his friends though, and that had upset him more than he was ever going to admit to them. 

It takes him longer than he would have liked to find the statue he mentioned in his letter to Parkinson but he had left early to make sure he is on time and is pleased to find an empty bench opposite like he was hoping for. With time to spare, he settles himself down and starts reading a copy of The Times newspaper to try and read between the lines and see if the muggles had noticed anything unusual going on. Harry still would not trust what the Prophet is writing, even if he did have a copy of it. 

“Potter?” he hears quietly to his right when he is halfway through the sports section, making Harry jump as he turns wide eyes on the girl standing uncomfortably in front of him. 

“Parkinson,” Harry replies as calmly as he can, “Please take a seat.”

Pansy nods and sits down beside him and Harry takes the opportunity to observe her while folding up his paper. She is wearing what Harry can only assume is actually her school uniform, dark gray trousers, smart shoes and a white blouse and suddenly Harry is very aware of just how far out of her comfort zone he has brought her. The clothes she has on are probably the only ones she owns that will fit in with muggles. It is the most casual he has ever seen her and when he puts his mind to it, he can’t picture her at Hogsmeade or at the weekends in anything less than casual robes. Noticing her staring, Harry cocks his head slightly, 

“Well, you were the one that wrote to me. I can’t say I was expecting it,” he begins calmly. 

Pansy glances around, before nodding slightly as if assuring herself they are safe to speak, before shifting a little closer to Harry, “I will not beat around the bush. They are saying that you are the Chosen One, Potter. They say it is only you that can defeat the Dark Lord and that you were fighting in the Ministry over some sort of prophecy that told you how to defeat him. Are you going to stand and fight?”

Her face is stone cold, void of any emotion, but her eyes give her away. He sees the same sort of desperation he has felt himself on many occasions, the desperation that comes from having run out of options and taking a leap of faith or doing something incredibly stupid because it is the only option left open to you. He notices she doesn’t ask if it is true, only if he will fight.

“Voldemort,” Harry starts quietly, narrowing his eyes at Pansy’s flinch, deciding that if she is going to be upfront with him then he can do the same to the best of his abilities, “has got an unhealthy obsession with me. I do not really think there is anywhere I could hide from him if he wanted to find me.” 

“You don’t trust the fidelius charm to keep you safe?” Pansy demands haughtily, as if Harry just doesn’t understand what magic can do and the young wizard feels his blood boil. 

“The last attempt to trust such magic to keep me safe didn’t end very well now did it? I’ve got this nice scar on my forehead that you and your mates like to mock me about see and I figured I wasn’t going to chance it a second time,” Harry snaps at her, “ And so yeah, I guess I need to stand and fight or I will be running my entire life!”

‘Neither can live while the other survives’ goes through his mind briefly but he buries it deep in the back of his mind. No one needs to know the truth about the prophecy yet, even if the Prophet is up to its usual tricks. He can imagine the headlines now and the demands and pressures about how he must owe them something, how he has to save those that made him out to be an insane criminal just a year before. Like he has some sort of moral obligation to those fools. He suddenly feels sick. 

“Right. Sorry,” Pansy mumbles so quietly that Harry hardly picks up on it, “Look I didn’t come here to fight I came....I came to offer my help.”

Harry laughs, turns to face her better and folds one leg under himself as he tries to read her emotions, “You, help me? I thought it might be something like this but how? And more importantly, why?”

Again Pansy glances around the park and Harry finds himself more intrigued as to who exactly she fears will find her but says nothing as she wrings her hands in her lap, “I...I have information for you. I hear things. I can get you information.”

“What sort of information?” Harry asks with a frown.

“The type I shouldn’t tell you about here,” she replies cryptically.

Harry raises an eyebrow and runs a hand through his hair, “Who do you think can hear you exactly?”

“You can never be sure,” Pansy mutters, glancing at the ground, “I promise, I know things and I can....find things out. In Slytherin house when we go back to school, about the Dark Lord’s influence there and filter it back to you. Things have changed.”

“I thought you didn’t want to fight,” Harry questions, thinking her words over and more importantly the letter she had sent him.

“I don’t!” Pansy replies loudly, rubbing her hands on her thighs nervously, “I don’t want to fight. Hex people and get hit and ....Merlin, I don’t want to get hurt but...I don’t think staying neutral is an option anymore. I think everyone has to pick a side, and I don’t want to be on the one that thinks it is ok to murder someone.”

“It is funny,” Harry states sharply, “You’ve never came across as someone that was interested in...well, other people. Especially not anyone not deemed a pureblood.”

Pansy screws up her face and Harry is reminded where she got her nickname of ‘pug-faced’ from. It seems over the years she has grown into herself better and if the situation wasn’t so serious Harry might consider her pretty. “Look Potter, I know I’ve not been particularly nice to people but I never wished them dead. I don’t like going to a school with muggleborn children that are ignorant about their culture. They don’t have the same pre-Hogwarts training as children raised in the wizarding world so instead of getting to work on the magic, we have to go over basic theory and essay writing, the likes of which any child raised in a magical household should know. Yet since it ended up with so many wasting so much of their time in first year, these lessons are slipping away and even wizarding children are going to Hogwarts without knowing what they did in the past! Wouldn’t that frustrate you too?”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Harry realises he understands her point of view completely. He himself had gone to Hogwarts with a primary school education and he certainly didn’t know how to write an essay properly before he was expected to hand his first in. The theory behind so many of the lessons would be second nature to the classmates that had witnessed it every day growing up and even when he questions himself over why they were not top of all the classes he has an answer for himself within seconds. They must have been bored stiff until classes actually started to challenge them properly. 

But there is seeing about reviewing the education system and becoming a Death Eater. Harry remains cautious. 

“Okay but...why should I trust you, Pansy? What have you ever done to make me want to trust you?” Harry tries, watching her reaction carefully. 

She shrugs and bites on her lower lip before replying, “Well, I have never lied to you. I don’t want to be a Death Eater and I don’t want to see anyone be killed. I guess you have to go out on a limb and trust me on that part. I’m a Slytherin, Potter. I want what is safest for me first and right now that is helping you as discreetly as I can so I don’t have to physically get involved. I know it is dangerous to help you and to give you the information I have, to attempt to get more, but it is a risk I’m willing to take. I’m not nice but I’m not pretending to be and you can’t say that about a lot of people now can you? The sorting hat doesn’t say anything about Slytherins being evil, just ambitious. I have the basic ambition of life Harry, I just want to live.”

Searching her eyes, Harry doesn’t see anything that would make him doubt her. He thinks over his situation, the number of allies he has sitting at a grand total of one, two at a push, and perhaps a goblin that will at least be honest with him. It makes him feel uncomfortable to think that Pansy Parkinson could become his spy in Slytherin house, that such a thing should even be needed in a school, and it feels a little too much like playing Dumbledore but some things just need to be done, some chances just need to be taken. 

“Alright. I can’t trust you with everything right away,” Harry beings only to be cut off with Pansy’s snort and comment of, “I should hope not, that would be bloody foolish of you,” but he ignores it and carries on, “If you’re serious, then I need to know what you know and we need to talk terms but we can’t do that here. If I take you back to where I’m staying, you can’t tell anyone, obviously, and there is no backing out. This is it, Parkinson. Make your choice.”

Pansy looks him straight in the eye and Harry feels his inside turn cold at her blunt response, “I made my choice the moment they put my mother in St Mungos to try get my father to join the Death Eaters and made it look like an accident. He made his choice to run that day, I made mine to stay and help win this war. Like you said, if the Dark Lord wants someone found, there is nowhere to hide. Lead the way.”

If leaving Privet Drive was Harry’s first chance then trusting Pansy Parkinson even a little is his first leap of faith. He gives her a short nod and gets to his feet, heading for the exit of the park without another word, the sound of her shoes on the pavement reassuring him that she is following. Pansy doesn’t say anything and Harry is glad for it because he probably wouldn’t even hear her over the screaming inside his own head, the multitude of questions and the self-doubt he has to squash as he leads the Slytherin towards a bus stop. 

Pansy looks uncomfortable when he leads her into the shelter to check the times, and her face screws up as a group of teenagers walk past jeering and make lurid gestures at her, but Harry thinks it is perhaps good for her to see how muggles actually live as he’s pretty sure she has a bias against them without being familiar with them at all. Granted, the group of teens probably do nothing to help his cause. 

“There is a bus in five minutes. I will take you back to where I’m staying. You won’t tell anyone where that is. If you are even remotely serious about me being able to do something about Voldemort then you will not tell anyone. Not even Dumbledore,” Harry tells her quietly as he takes a seat, watching her eyes widen as she takes in his words before taking a seat next to him. Without experience of bus stops she slips on the slanted seat a few times before finding her balance and resuming her questions. 

“So, you are not seeing eye to eye with the Headmaster anymore?” she asks quietly.

“You could say that,” Harry replies bitterly. 

“Fascinating. It seems you are not the fool I took you for after all. It would please me not to have to deal with Dumbledore. I don’t trust him,” Pansy states carefully. 

Harry merely gives her a look and she understands it perfectly. They will talk about things later. An old woman at the other end of the shelter is giving them a funny look and it reminds them both that even if they don’t understand what is being said, all walls have ears. 

HPHPHP

Pansy keeps close to Harry as he leads her down the street and into the B&B. When he thinks on it more, wizarding buildings are what to muggles would be old-fashioned and to see everything so modern might feel like being in a different world entirely. In a way, Pansy is and Harry is her only connection to the one she left that morning when she made the decision that was basically going to change her life. As Harry beckons her past him into his room, he can’t help but feel it is very brave of her and he takes note to always try to define people by their actions like Hermione would and not by which house they were in at Hogwarts like Ron. 

It is clear by the look on her face that Pansy is not impressed but she doesn’t comment and Harry is grateful for that. He is immediately thankful that he cleared up his things that morning and that years of living with the Durlsey’s had trained him to make his bed that morning before he left. Pansy notices Hedwig and happily moves over to her, cooing slightly and muttering about how beautiful she is before reaching out towards her cage and hesitating before turning to Harry,

“May I?”

Harry merely shrugs, “It isn’t me you have to ask really.”

Pansy smiles and turns back to the cage, door already open to give Hedwig any freedom she might wish, and holds out her arm while looking at the owl, “How about it beautiful? May I pet you?”

Hedwig hoots softly before hopping onto Pansy’s arm, making her giggle, and Harry smiles while gathering his lists. “Would you like a drink?” he asks Pansy slowly, feeling it is the right thing to do, “I don’t have anything you will recognise but cola is really not that bad.”

“Muggle stuff?” Pansy asks with a scowl as she pets the great white bird stretching out her wings on her arm, careful not to jostle her.

“They are actually very good at drinks I will have you know,” Harry returns, a slight edge to his before Pansy shrugs and nods.

Harry happily goes about pouring them both a drink while taking the time to calm himself down and question himself again. Just over a week out of school and he is in London with a pretty girl in his room and no one to supervise. Sirius would love this, Harry thinks with a pang as he hands Pansy a drink and encourages Hedwig to fly back to her cage, which she does so after a circle of the room.

“I’ve tasted worse,” Pansy declares with a half smile that Harry guesses means she actually likes it, “Now where do you want to start?”

“I guess I should start by telling you that I am no longer in any way affiliated with Albus Dumbledore. If you want to work with me to end this war, it is me you will be working with and not him. I certainly can’t offer you the protection he can, just the assurance that I don’t want to treat anyone as a pawn or making them do anything they won’t want to,” Harry begins with a shrug.

“I wouldn’t want his protection,” Pansy scowls, “He has done enough damage already. If he was as powerful and almighty as people are deluded into thinking then it wouldn’t have come to this. I’d rather work with you Potter. You’re not ambitious enough and you lack cunning but you’re honest and have good intentions. Adults had the chance to end this war and they fucked up,” she continues bluntly, bitterly Harry thinks while nodding along, “If they had got it right the first time we wouldn’t be going through this.”

“I agree,” Harry murmurs softly, “Let’s start with Slytherin house. I take it you know what is going on and it isn’t that great? I can only presume that is where you get your information from.”

Pansy nods carefully, biting her lower lip and tensing up her shoulders before taking another sip of her drink. Harry can feel the tension in the air and understand it completely; she was essentially about to betray her whole house by telling him whatever she knew. Ostracised by everyone else, Slytherins clearly stuck together and she was betraying that for a boy she didn’t even are for or really know. Yet somehow trusted. 

“After what happened at the end of last year, a lot of families became more open about their stances. The Dark Lord had been back for over a year and some of the kids at Hogwarts have parents who are Death Eaters. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy and others. They were vocal about it last year, how their parents had the right idea and what not but now things have changed. Purebloods meet up a lot at formal occasions. It has always been part of our culture. Well at these meetings they are getting more vocal about recruiting our generation into the Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy has already taken the Dark Mark and the place of his father, Lucius. As far as I am aware he is the only one with a visible mark but not the only one who sympathises. Many in Slytherin remain neutral. Some, I think from observation, would fight on your side if you could convince them. I don’t want to see my friends who don’t want to be Death Eaters go down that road because they don’t see another way. If I have to be the one that takes a stand then so be it, even if they are not aware of it,” Pansy rambles passionately, finishing off with a fire burning in her eyes that earns her a whole lot of respect from the boy sitting on the other side of the bed. 

“Okay, so are you offering to basically be my spy in Slytherin at Hogwarts?” Harry asks bluntly, putting aside the information she has given him for the moment.

“I will tell you anything I can find out yes. I thought I had made that clear,” she replies quietly.

“If you find out anything important it will quickly become obvious that they have a spy in their house and you will be in danger,” Harry reminds her. 

Pansy turns and stares out the window, “I’m in danger anyway. If I don’t turn Death Eater myself then I’m sure I will be expected to marry one. It will be worth it.” 

“We will need somewhere to meet up where we are not likely to get caught. Umbridge is gone from Hogwarts this year but Merlin knows who will replace her. If Dumbledore has any sense, he will be more careful about students wandering around anyway,” Harry suggests, considering whether to show her the map or his cloak before deciding against it. He needed to keep an ace or two up his sleeve after all. 

“I agree,” Pansy begins slowly, face screwing up in concentration as she thinks things over, before shrugging her shoulders, “It isn’t easy for us to find somewhere we can both get to without too much trouble that is not suspicious in any way because I’m in the dungeons and you are in a tower.”

Harry huffs, falling back onto his back on the bed and ignoring Pansy’s shocked and disapproving stare. She probably doesn’t think it is appropriate or some such rubbish if Harry’s understanding of her is anything to go by. Removing his glasses, he rubs at his face and moans in frustration.

“It isn’t wise to let down your guard in front of me, Potter,” Pansy remarks coldly from the foot of the bed. 

“Harry.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Harry,” the young wizard mutters, “We’re going to fight a war together Pansy. You might as well use it. If you are likely to attack me in my own bed, it is best to give up before I have even started isn’t it?”

Pansy laughs at that, a little bitter, because it should not be this way, “Can you think of anywhere then, Harry?”

“I’m trying,” Harry mutters, thinking of the room of requirement and then dismissing it because his friends know about it and he isn’t sure they will take well to stumbling in at the wrong time and finding out about Pansy being on their side or getting him information. Or that Harry hadn’t told them about it. He winces at the thought of Ron’s ranting and nods to himself. Pansy is better being kept a secret at the moment.

“What about the History of Magic classroom?” Pansy muses thoughtfully and Harry actually sits up.

“The what?!”

“Well, have you ever heard of anyone being caught there late at night? No one goes down that corridor apart from to go to class. There is no way we will disturb a teacher and if Binns ever was in, he wouldn’t even know who we were! I’m pretty certain he thinks I’m French,” Pansy states seriously and Harry snorts, making her scowl at him. 

“I get your point. Talk about hiding in plain sight but I can’t think of anything better at the moment. It is a start I guess. I will try find somewhere better for us to meet up.”

“And I’m still a prefect,” Pansy remarks, “It will be easier for me to get out and about around the school to find you.”

“Not on any squads this year I hope,” Harry snaps, suddenly remembering the role she had played the year before, having been too wrapped up in everything else that seemed so much more serious before that.

Pansy looks down at the floor, visibly ashamed, and states quietly, “I thought what I wanted back then was to be with Draco and to be respected within the school. I knew Draco was a bully. I didn’t think he would turn Death Eater and hurt people.”

“Are you saying he already has hurt people,” Harry catches on, increasingly alarmed as Pansy bites her lower lip again and nods, “You don’t just join the Dark Lord, Harry. There are...initiations, and no I don’t know the details but I know people get hurt. I know that muggles get hurt. They don’t deserve that.”

“You’re not the girl I thought you were,” Harry states frankly. 

“I’m not a girl anymore. I’ve grown up,” Pansy replies seriously, “They used to burn us on stakes because we were different. Attacking muggles for not being as good as us,” Harry glares at her and her gaze falters slightly, “ I mean...attacking them for being different makes us no better than them. I’ve changed Potter. I spent a day as a stag and that accelerated the thoughts I already had.”

“Look, what do you know about Draco and his turning Death Eater?” Harry asks eagerly, holding up a hand a second later when Pansy opens her mouth to speak and rummaging through his shopping bag from the day before to get a note pad and pen before moving back to the bed to take notes. If Pansy is surprised she doesn’t mention it, just gives him a moment before beginning. 

“As I said, I saw him at a...function, and he was keen to show his mark and brag about how he was obviously superior in skill to have been chosen at his age. I understood that he had taken his father’s place,” Pansy begins carefully, watching Harry cautiously before continuing, “He spoke of some sort of ...task he had been given personally by the Dark Lord though he would give no details. He seemed very proud of this fact. I’m afraid I don’t know anything else about it.”

Harry nods and scribbles down some notes, “Well, I can about guarantee that no one would believe me if I told them this information though it certainly doesn’t surprise me. Try to get as much information on him as you can. Whatever it is he is working on it can’t be good. He is very young to be made the exception.”

“I had...thought things over. There is one thing that Draco has that adults and fully trained wizards would find harder to get their hands on,” Pansy states coldly, though it isn’t directed at Harry who frowns.

“What is that then?” he asks slowly, not sure he particularly wants to hear her answer.

“Access to Hogwarts,” Pansy replies simply, “It is the logical conclusion.” 

“I was afraid that you were going to say that,” Harry responds with a groan, “Well, until we work out who it is safe to prove it to and how to prove it, we just need to keep an eye on him. Dumbledore, I’m sure will think he can be reformed or some such bollocks and Fudge is corrupt as they come so I don’t trust the Ministry and...what?” Harry asks, puzzled, noticing Pansy’s sly grin.

“You’ve grown up, Harry Potter, and opened your eyes it seems. I think it is best to keep what you know, what...we know,” she adds hesitantly, “to ourselves for the moment. Forgive me. It is strange to think of you as an ally after all these years where I’ve basically tormented you and your group of friends.”

“Feeling is mutual,” Harry states dryly, “We don’t need to get on, we just need to trust each other. Have you got any more information?”

Shaking her head slowly, Pansy continues in a business like fashion, “No. However, there should be many more social gatherings throughout the summer which I will do my best obtain information from. Malfoy likes to boast. If there is information to be found, then I will find it.”

Harry nods slowly, before straightening himself up, “ Ok. Well, you certainly can’t tell anyone where I am. Don’t shake your head, I know it is obvious but I feel better stating it. What we need is a way to keep in contact from now on. I don’t know how long I will be staying here and I don’t know where I’m going. I figured if I don’t know where I’m going, no one can be one step ahead of me.”

Pansy scoffs, “You can be such an idiotic Gryffindor at times Potter. There is no need to throw yourselves into things all the time. You are allowed to plan you know.”

“My plans don’t seem to end well,” Harry says sheepishly.

“Well, if you can’t plan, I guess I will. Owls are the easiest way to keep in contact if you are remaining underground in the muggle community but your owl, while breathtakingly beautiful, is far too easy to identify. I would suggest you purchase a plainer looking bird,” Pansy states snobbishly, as if Harry was a complete fool for not realising it in the first place. Hedwig squawks loudly and they both glance over, Pansy unapologetic and Harry guiltily. 

“I see your point. Hogwarts only allows one pet though,” Harry replies carefully, keeping an eye on his owl as he says it, trying to tell her that he won’t be abandoning her without appearing like a sap in front of the Slytherin, “I will have to sneak my other owl in once I get one. It means sneaking back into Diagon Alley mind.” 

“Why are you so afraid of being caught?” Pansy asks quietly, carefully, pulling away from Harry slightly as if she expects a backlash for asking. 

He glances over sharply but makes no move towards her, noting it seems that is what she expects, and answers with a sinking feeling, “I’m sure Professor Dumbledore would return to my relative’s home for safety reason and have people make sure I didn’t leave. I um, can’t be doing that. War to fight and all that.”

Pansy’s stare tells Harry she knows there is more to it than that but she lets it be and merely continues her instructions, “We cannot under any circumstances refer to each other by name in the letters we write. That is far too risky, however cheesy codenames are too obvious. You can address me as Persephone and...”

“Persephone" Harry cuts in aghast.

“Middle name,” Pansy snaps before continuing, “And you, well I don’t know. James is a little too obvious isn’t it?”

“Can’t I be Zeus?” Harry asks cheekily only to get a withering stare in response, “Okay. Seriously, I don’t know. What about Roman! Stick with the ancient theme, but it is still a name!”

“It is ridiculous,” Pansy replies dryly.

“”It works,” Harry mutters stubbornly.

“Oh for...ok fine! Get another owl, we can communicate that way until we’re back at school when we will have the classroom until further notice. I will try to find out everything I can over the summer. What exactly are you going to be doing?” She demands, flicking her hair over one shoulder before crossing her arms and just glaring at him. 

Harry just stares at her, splutters, and then rises to his feet flailing his arms around, “I’m going...well I’m going to...bloody well get started aren’t I?! I need allies and to train and stuff"

“You can’t practice magic outside of Hogwarts because you don’t live in a pureblood home,” Pansy drawls.

“What has being in a pureblood house got to do with anything?” Harry asks confused.

“The alarms at the ministry don’t know who uses magic, Harry, just that magic is used. If I use magic, they don’t know if it was me, my mother or my father that used the spell unless they come and check our wands and they just don’t have the staff to be in every wizarding home all the time,” Pansy replies surprised, “Didn’t you...well, know that?”

“No,” Harry replies bluntly, “That is bloody unfair. Anyway, I will try to get physically fitter maybe, for dodging people. What happened...at the end of last year was in the paper right?” Harry asks, carefully, continuing at Pansy’s nod, “Well I think the reason we escaped relatively okay was because we were fitter and faster and able to outmanoeuvre the Death Eaters. I know you don’t want to fight, but if the time comes, it might help to be prepared for it. I can study the theory and I can study Voldemort as best I can, know your enemy and all that. I will write up lists of known Death Eaters, their contacts, anything of note they have at their disposal. I will try find people outside Dumbledore’s reach, allies, things like that.”

Pansy nods, satisfied for now, before smirking, “That is a whole load of work, Potter.”

“It is worth it,” is Harry’s defiant reply, “Look. I won’t trust you fully until you’ve given me more but what you did today, what you’ve told me, is a lot to go on building that. And if you were sent by the other side...I wouldn’t expect it to be you,” Harry states bluntly, looking her up and down until she flinches.

“What the hell does that mean Potter? That I’m not as pretty as Greengrass so obviously I’m telling the truth? Would you expect them to send some Slytherin to seduce their way into your bed and hand you over?” Pansy demands and Harry blushes.

“What? No! Just that, maybe someone would try befriend me or something but we’ve never been friends, far from it so it isn’t likely! And no, I wouldn’t expect someone to try and, s-seduce me. Do you think they would?! Merlin!” Harry rambles, cheeks on fire now and Pansy laughs. 

“Oh sweet Merlin Potter, you really are as innocent as you look aren’t you?!”

“I will send word when I have another owl and about anything we move on to after that,” Harry states, voice as even as he can force it and Pansy blinks, her laugher dying.

“Ok. I’m not working for you Potter, that best be clear. I’m working with you,” she states clearly and Harry nods, understanding completely. He has no plans to take the place of Dumbledore or Voldemort. Having a spy at all is already too close. 

Satisfied, Pansy rises to her feet and moves towards the door, stating, “Good luck Potter. I would appreciate if you would tell me how to get a hold of clothes that are more suited to these surroundings before our next meeting if we are to have another in this location,” with about as much dignity as she can muster as she realises she is about to go back into muggle London looking like a school girl, before slamming the door shut behind her and leaving Harry flabbergasted in her wake. 

“Merlin. Bye then,” Harry mutters before flopping back onto the bed, “Well, that was different.”


	4. gred, feorge and anthony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes a risk and seeks out the twins.

Harry gets the unnerving feeling that Pansy will be checking up on his progress given what he had stated he would do and somehow it drives him on to get started on things the very same day. He is not sure the Slytherin prefect is the sort of witch he really wants to get involved in an argument with. She is far too feisty and cunning for that. True to his words, he studies the theory of the spells he wants to learn and puts far more effort into some of his homework than he ever would have done before. When he is in the middle of his Potions homework he flicks past a page on healing potions and makes a mental note to try to get up to scratch on that subject as best he can, whether he can take the class or not. Sadly, that is knowledge he is probably going to need at some point in the not so distant future.

Days pass and he spends most of it locked in his room pouring over new spells and taking down notes of things he might find useful. Despite having plenty of money for taxis, Harry walks everywhere, whether it is ten minutes down the road to pick up some food or over a mile to pick up some new clothes in order to improve his overall fitness. He deliberately does all he can to do things that are not going into Diagon Alley to purchase another owl because it was so unnerving the time before and because he still has time. There is also the added fact that he does not want Hedwig sharing him and sulking over it any earlier than necessary. 

It strikes him, nearly a week after Pansy’s first visit, that in order to defeat Voldemort he has to answer a very important question. Why had he not died in the first place? Harry resolves to try write down what he knows and purchases some A3 sized paper to make a bigger diagram, gets a Chinese takeaway and sprawls out on the floor of his room with a set of highlighter pens and writes down each line of the Prophecy, determined to make sense of it and unravel any clues it might have within it.

‘ _Make sense of that old bat_ ,’ Harry thinks to himself sourly, ‘ _Now that really is a challenge._ ’

He writes down the contents of the prophecy and then highlights parts of importance, mainly the part about Harry having a power that the Dark Lord does not know about and Harry can only presume, cannot use. ' _Which I’m sure will be simple to work out_ ’ Harry thinks sarcastically to himself, ‘ _What could I possibly be capable of that Voldemort is not? This is hopeless!_ ’

Harry stubbornly refuses to believe that love of all things was what was going to essentially win him a war. His heart. As much as he loves his friends, he has hardly been surrounded by love his entire life. For years it was only something he understood as something he did not have and perhaps did not deserve. It sounded ludicrous and the idea of there being a room at the Ministry of Magic filled with what Dumbledore had almost described as positive energy was laughable at best. 

“It is also enough to send a man round the bleedin’ twist,” Harry mutters to himself while savagely underlining the line _and neither can live while the other survives_ with his orange highlighter and scowling when it smudges his ink slightly. 

For Harry, he was capable of putting aside his scepticism for a moment and thinking theoretically about having a power related to his heart that Voldemort would not but if Voldemort was still around then clearly Harry had to still kill him, despite having said power already. He still had to get close to him, still had to defeat him in a duel, and Dumbledore had not disputed that. In fact, when Harry thought about it, despite caving in to requirements and telling Harry about the prophecy while offering up some excuses, Dumbledore had not given him much information at all and there had been no offer to train him to explain Harry’s apparent power and how he was expected to go about using it. The same flare of irritation and betrayal he had felt at Privet Drive returns for a moment before Harry viciously suppresses it and returns to his diagrams. 

The patronus charm was based on very positive magic and if anything would match what Dumbledore was on about or it would be something similar to that surely so Harry scribbles that down and draws a bubble around it before linking it to the appropriate line of the prophecy before sitting back against the bed feeling satisfied. That is until Hedwig hoots at him and he realises that really is not that much progress. 

“At least I’m doing something productive,” Harry sulks to the snowy owl, “ Hey, c’mere girl. I’ll share my crisps. I’m not sure you can eat crisps but quavers are soft. I’m sure you will be ok. And hey you eat cornflakes and soup so it isn’t like your diet is normal.”

Hedwig hoots softly and hops out of her cage, gliding the short distance to Harry and landing on his shoulder, making him wince slightly as she digs in her claws a little to stop herself. Harry wonders what another guest would think if they walked in to find him sat in the middle of the floor eating crisps, giving every third or fourth one to a giant owl perched on his shoulder.

“What am I going to do Hedwig? Magic that is like a patronus charm? Where do I even start,” Harry states sadly, “I need Hermione,” he adds a moment later. 

_Hermione_. Harry was only on day three of his new independent lifestyle and already he felt he needed her but he just could not shift the feeling that she was too trusting in Albus Dumbledore and authority figures in general. The previous year had been an eye-opener in many ways and though Hermione had been the one to push for the DA, he could not help but feel her respect for the rules would hurt his progress. Or that she would just turn him over to the _Order of the Phoenix_ when she was able to, in her mind doing so to keep him safe. 

Yet at the same time Harry couldn’t say that he particularly missed his friends in general. In fact, he had been grateful for the chance to do things his ways without Ron acting as if it was not serious or Hermione trying to take control over the situation. He needed to understand what the prophecy meant, not have Hermione snort and scowl at him for believing it, and he had to work out his connection to Voldemort without being berated over what happened to Sirius. Harry was not a book person though so he really needed help with that aspect. Just maybe not from where he thought. 

' _I need a bookworm that I can trust who is not Hermione. Surely I know someone like that_ ,’ Harry muses to himself while Hedwig hoots and snatches the empty crisp packet out of his hand to Harry’s protest and takes it over to the other side of the room to try and rip it apart and find more crisps, leaving Harry shaking his head, ‘ _I need to work on that. I also need someone that can help me and help Pansy gather information. I need the Weasley twins._ ’

HPHPHPHP

Harry had noticed the twin’s new shop when he had been in Diagon Alley the first time but it had been packed and he had not wanted to risk being seen by any of the Weasley family. This time he has no choice. Slipping inside the store in his trusty oversized hoody and cap mid morning is risky but with it being so busy he cannot risk his invisibility cloak either and so carefully makes his way through the store. The one thing about the store and the Alley in general being slightly busier than he had expected is that if the twins turn out to be on the Order’s side, Harry is pretty sure he can run and disappear which is obviously in his advantage. 

Impressed by the store, Harry sweeps over the products with a calculating eye, trying to work out anything that might be helpful to battle Death Eaters or a help to Pansy, who he notes he has firmly engrained in his plans in the past forty eight hours. 

Spotting Fred and George near the back of the store, Harry is pleased to see they are not serving anyone or showing anything off either but instead have left a young witch in charge of the till and are stacking shelves. Carefully Harry makes his way through the crowd making sure to look at the floor as much as possible, especially after he sees Susan Bones in the middle of the store with a giggling Hannah Abbot. Glancing between the twins, Harry cautiously makes his way towards the one furthest from the front of the store and slips in beside the shelf, calmly waiting until he is noticed and hoping to every deity he has ever heard of that it works and that the young Weasley will be too shocked to scream his name at the top of his lungs. 

After he hears someone else call George away, the twin Harry has identified as Fred turns to slip another box of canary creams onto the shelf and then looks Harry’s way, promptly freezing.

“Please, don’t say anything,” Harry mutters quietly as Fred’s eyes widen dramatically. 

“Talk about giving a boy a heart attack. Not wanting to be caught are we?” Fred asks quietly while picking up a box of biscuits that Harry has never seen before and putting them above the canary creams without skipping another beat. 

“I need to speak to you and George but I’m only going anywhere with you if you give me your word that you won’t turn me over to anyone for being here,” Harry hisses cryptically, unaware of whether his absence from his relatives has been noticed yet. 

Fred’s shoulder sink and he sighs, “We would never turn over our brother. Not ever. That door behind me leads to our back room. There is a door there with a key in it. It leads up to the flat upstairs where George and I have been staying. Head up and make yourself at home. I will get George and I won’t tell anyone you are there. You have my word,” Fred mutters before slipping past Harry and heading for his twin. It is the most serious that Harry has ever seen him and it unnerves him slightly but he does as Fred asks and heads back into the backroom, eyes glancing over the small kitchenette set up along with a jacket and handbag that clearly belong to the shop girl before spotting the door and heading up to the apartment. Making his way in, Harry nervously moves to the sitting area and sits down, his heart beating a little faster as he hears the twins coming up the stair and despite Fred’s word he tightens his grip on his wand in the front pocket of his hoody. 

The twins burst into the room and promptly take off their respective jumpers and jackets before one heads into the kitchen to fetch three butterbeers while the other pulls Harry into a rather unexpected bone-crushing Weasley hug. 

“You are in serious trouble,” Harry hears being cheerfully reported into his jumper, “Fred and I were both proud of you for having the balls to leave and worried you had done something ah adventurous. We know how you are so fond of getting yourself into mischief,” George finishes while sitting on one side of Harry while Fred takes the other and hands them both a butterbeer.

“They know I’m gone then,” Harry asks darkly while popping the cap off his bottle and taking a sip. 

“As far as the Order is aware you left your house last night. Moody stopped by to check on things and found there was no Harry to check on, naughty boy, but I’m thinking it wasn’t yesterday after dinner that you did a bunk,” Fred teases, poking Harry in the side for emphasis. 

“Why are you not handing me over to the Order?” Harry asks seriously, not wanting to get into things until he knows. 

Fred’s face turns serious and he exchanges a look with his brother before answering, “Because we rescued you from that house four years ago mate, and the way they treat you is inhumane. If you had a reason to leave after all this time, we figured it was for the best. Especially as there was no plan within the Order to move you for several weeks, probably not until after your birthday which I recon is just about enough time for you to lose what is left of your marbles.”

“Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence guys,” Harry mutters, despite feelingly an overwhelming sense of gratitude that the twins had not just automatically assumed the worst and frogmarched him back to Dumbledore, “I left a few days ago. Things went down at my relative’s house and I wasn’t about to stay there and be used as a punching bag any longer so I got out. I hadn’t sent a letter in over a week by the time they noticed I was gone by the way. More bars on the window had Hedwig locked out.”

Fred raises an eyebrow and mutters, “Well that wasn’t what they agreed to little brother now was it?”

“No,” Harry replies sharply, “And why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because to us Harry, you are. Have been for years. The rest feel the same. Cept Percy who apparently feels nothing, the git. But you have the rest of us,” George tells him sadly, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis, “We were talking to Ron and we have been reading the papers and when we put that together with what we’ve heard in the Order,” he begins.

“We have come to the conclusion that you are important to winning this war. Dumbledore has been decidedly shady so we wanted to hear your thoughts on things first,” Fred finishes. 

“It might take a while. Can you leave the shop that long?” Harry asks, feeling comfortable enough to take his jumper off, lay his wand on the table and shift around on the couch until he is more comfortable. 

“Yeah, we’ve got staff in. They are well trained,” Fred nods, “This is pretty serious then? I will put up some silencing wards and stuff.”

Pulling his wand out, Fred does exactly that while George moves to take a seat in the armchair beside the sofa so he can see Harry and his brother easier. 

“I’m going to work to stop Voldemort, learn to hear his name, it is just a name!” Harry snaps when the twins flinch in unison and then look sheepish, “You only give him more power than he already has if you do that! Anyway, I’m going to work to stop him and I am trying to gather information and allies. I will not be working with Albus Dumbledore. He has kept some vital information from me for a long time, thinking that I would be better off when what I really needed to do was prepare.”

“You-know...ok _Voldemort_ has been targeting you then?” Fred asks, half whispers and his eyes are wide with a fear that makes Harry pity him for a moment and at the same time want to shove him off the couch because they do not need that. 

“Yes,” Harry replies honestly, his face open and honest as Fred exhales loudly and George mutters a ‘blimey’ on his other side, “He’s going to come for me so I need to be ready and I need to have help.”

“Whatever you need, Harry,” George states seriously, and without hesitation, Fred nodding with him. 

“Well, you have not handed me over so I have had your time and trust which is a good start. After that, I think some of the things you guys can create will be helpful, and being in Diagon Alley well...you’re bound to pick up on things right?” Harry asks carefully.

“Ahh, I see Mr Potter, be your ears on the ground as it were? Absolutely. Whatever you need stock wise, just take it or let us know what you need and we can send it to you, create more of it or even try and create new things. You, as our sole benefactor, can just take what you need in place of a wage which I can tell you would refuse anyway,” Fred rambles happily, reading Harry’s face correctly because no, he would never take a wage from the twins for doing nothing. Especially as it did not really feel like it had been his money he had invested in them in the first place. 

“Right. I am thinking things like your darkness powder which I saw will be brilliant in a duel to help escape. If magic isn’t an option to escape, you can still run you know? There is no shame in getting away from a Death Eater with your life even if you have to run from a fight,” Harry mutters darkly, more to himself than the twins who just nod along with him.

“True words Harrikins. Hang on, maybe I should write this down, accio parchment and quill! Shite! Forgot I hadn’t cleaned that table up!” Fred exclaims as said table sends several books and boxes along with a mug and plate crashing to the floor as the parchment and quiz whizz across the room. 

“Nice one Gred.”

“Shut it Feorge,” Fred replies cheerfully, “Carry on Harry.”

“Extendable ears. I am going to need a good supply of them for people I have collecting information,” Harry continues without skipping a beat, more than used to this sort of chaos around the infamous Weasley twins. 

“You have a spy,” George breaks in sharply, “That sounds an awful lot like Dumbledore to me mate. Where are they spying exactly?”

He sounds concerned more than disappointed or disapproving Harry notes, probably worried about what Harry is getting himself involved in but the young wizard cannot afford to let things like that stop him. 

“I can’t tell you that,” Harry says slowly, “It puts them in danger. I...do not want certain people helping me to know about each other. For their protection as well as my own and that of everyone else involved.”

Fred gives him a long hard look before nodding slowly, “I don’t like it Harry. But I trust you.”

“That is all I am asking for. But I know that is still asking for a lot,” Harry says gratefully, “Apart from that, just things that can be used in a pinch, create havoc that can give people an opening to escape and anything that can hide people or help them gain information.”

Fred scribbles it all down before placing onto the coffee table in front of them, “ Okay, got it. We will send you away with some stuff today if you like, shrink it down for you, and owl you any other supplies later. And yes I know you can’t use magic outside of school yet,” he continues with a roll of his eyes, “but a tap of your wand will de-shrink things without informing the ministry.”

“That would be great,” Harry says excitedly, beaming at Fred who chuckles at him, before his smile fades and he gets more serious again, “Look. How close do you think Ron and Hermione are to Professor Dumbledore and the Order. Be honest.”

The twins exchange a dark glances and Harry feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably as they seem to have an entire conversation silently over his head before George sighs loudly and Harry turns to face him.

“Hermione has been staying at the Burrow. We go there a few nights a week for dinner so that we don’t starve ourselves to death and ...look mate I think they are just worried but when they found out that you had left your relatives they didn’t react well. They are on orders to tell Dumbledore or our parents or a member of the Order if you contact them and I think Hermione will do just that. You know what she is like with rules. She found things...irresponsible and what not and Ron. Merlin, I don’t know Harry he has changed. He has gone all quiet since he got home from school and I can’t be sure what it means. Until we have a better idea....”

“I should stay away from them,” Harry mutters hollowly.

“Might be for the best mate,” George mutters with a comforting pat to Harry’s right shoulder. 

Pushing aside the overwhelming sadness, Harry continues on, “What about members of the Order? Do you think there is anyone I can trust? I don’t want to...make it about sides and me and Dumbledore but....”

“Would anyone side with you, you mean?” Fred asks surprised.

“Well yeah,” Harry replies meekly, “I need to get training and like...read books and...stuff. I’m gutted Hermione is being this way because having her on my side would really be for the best but...”

“But she isn’t so we need another bookworm?” George enquires, sounding cheerful again, “Harry, Harry, you never do things the easy way do you?”

“To be fair mate, it isn’t like I go looking for the hard way,” Harry snorts before taking another large sip of his butterbeer. 

“Yet it always seems to find you anyway,” George replies breezily, “We can see what we can do though.”

“Indeed we can oh brother of mine,” Fred adds, “I’m sure there are those we can sound out, some of the younger ones. There has been an influx of younger members that you went to school with.”

“We can talk to them.”

“See what they think.”

“In the meantime, perhaps we can help you?” George enquires, tapping his forehead with his finger before adding, “We’re not entirely useless.”

“You remember I taught you guys the patronus charm last year?” Harry asks, continuing when he receives a wary nod and puzzled look from each twin, “Well, I need to know everything I can learn about branches of magic that work in a similar way. Feeding off positive thinking and energy and that sort of thing.”

“You’re not going to have us doing weird muggle breathing techniques and folding ourselves up in odd positions are you?” Fred asks dubiously, “Dad tried that yoga stuff once, thought it sounded interesting. More like mental.”

Harry laughs before reaching over to give Fred a shove, “As if. No, but I do need information on that sort of thing. I will be going straight into the library at Hogwarts to look it up as it is really important. But yeah, I need more people reading books, more people getting information, and hopefully that will mean less people have to well...”

“Fight?” George offered lightly. 

“Yeah. I mean, the Order has not been fighting have they? They dedicated themselves to stalking me and crystal balls talking about me,” Harry drawls, hoping the twins will ignore the reference to the prophecy but he is not so lucky. He notices the shared look and takes a long drink of his butterbeer as Fred clamps his hand down on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, about that prophecy. Georgie and I have been talking about that since the whole incident at the ministry,” he begins cheerfully, “And we wondered if old Dumbledore had told you the context of it and what it meant.”

Harry considers lying to them for all of ten seconds before thinking better of it. The Weasleys are like his family and the twins have always been there for him and believed in him when needed and remain at his side now. He cannot do that to them.

“Yes, Dumbledore told me what it meant,” Harry starts carefully, “For your safety as much as anything else, I can’t tell you what it means because Voldemort does not know. It is basically what Dumbledore and I fell out about because I felt he kept his own council far too long. If I had been him, I would have destroyed the evidence so people would not be in danger guarding it like they were last year. If he had, maybe nothing that did happen would have,” he finishes soberly, only for Fred to squeeze his shoulder gently. 

“Corny as is sounds mate, everything happens for a reason. We just learn from it and move on yeah? He would have wanted that.”

Harry stiffens under his touch and shakes the hand off. He does not want to talk to Sirius and certainly not with the twins as much as he trusts them. He wants the twins slowly put together what he has told them and come to their own conclusion about what Pansy was reportedly saying the Prophet was reporting before he jolts in his seat. 

“Guys have you been getting the Prophet delivered?!”

“Yeah,” George says slowly, “It is sort of how people find out what is going on.”

Harry just rolls his eyes at him. “Can I see any you have lying around? I haven’t been getting it delivered myself but I’ve been hearing about what they have been writing. I’d like to see it for myself.”

Fred looks bewildered but starts looking through the assortment of papers and magazines on the shelf under the coffee table, handing papers out to Harry as he finds them. 

“The Order is not going to stop looking for you, Harry” George says suddenly, “What are you planning to do about that?”

Harry stares at him vacantly for a few moments before answering him with a shrug, “Cross that bridge when I come to it I guess. Dumbledore had been blocking my mail before this summer. I guess if he thinks to write me a letter at some point I might decide to write back. I had permission from my relatives to leave their home. He has no jurisdiction over that so it not like I had to inform him before.”

“Sly little brother,” Fred declares as he places one last paper on the table, “I like it.”

“I’m so proud that I might...

“Shed a tear!”

“Oh how you have grown!” George declares dramatically, slapping his hands to his chest over his heart, before frowning, “But seriously, old Dumbledore was blocking your mail? That is not right, nor legal I might add.”

Fred shakes his head and looks pained, “Blimey. Dumbledore really isn’t the man we thought he was. With the Order, he is different too. More...like he doesn’t want people questioning him.” 

“Exactly!” Harry exclaims passionately, “Look I am not going to tell him where I am if he asks but he has nothing legal on me for leaving. My aunt even paid for my damn train ticket! I have my connections and I need more. I’m going to be learning and getting ready for this fight, cause it is coming guys.”

“We know Harry, and we will be with you,” George says heavily, “We joined the DA for a reason, though I assume it will have a new name if it reforms this year eh?”

Harry chuckles dryly, “Yeah I recon so. I don’t know if I will continue with it to be honest. I will need to see what happens when I am back at Hogwarts and who the new defence teacher is. If it is someone competent well...I have other things to be getting on with. Can I just take these papers?” Harry adds, noticing the clock on the wall and how much time he has taken up already. George just nods, not looking particularly bothered. 

“Anything else you need?”

Sitting up straighter, a smile crosses Harry’s face, “An owl!”

“Pardon?” Fred asks bewildered, “Mate you already have one of those.”

“Yeah and beautiful as she is, she is pretty damn...”

“Obvious,” George finishes for him, “The undercover operation is extending to owls that blend in now? Full out camouflage Mr Potter, I like it.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Harry admits, “But it is a good one. I have been here a while now and I don’t want to be wandering up the Alley to buy an owl if perhaps...I can rope one of my brothers into doing it for me?” Harry asks sweetly, feeling a warm feeling spread throughout his chest when George’s face lights up at being referred to as Harry’s brother by Harry himself. 

“The things we do for you. A plain barn owl that wouldn’t make someone look twice right?”

“Don’t put it that way. And can you get another perch please? I won’t need a cage,” Harry chuckles while rising to his feet and digging through his pockets for some gold and handing it to George who dissaparates instantly. 

“I will go down into the store cupboard and put some things together for you to take away with you. Not too much that you can’t carry it. I’d offer to apparate you off but...”

“Then you would know where I’m staying,” Harry finishes for him and Fred just gives him a wry grin before heading off downstairs and leaving Harry alone in a small flat. That had gone far better than he had expected it to. Perhaps a little too easily but he tries not to think about it as he flips through the first of the papers he had been handed, seeing Dumbledore’s face staring up at him from the front page encouraging calm along with a headline assuring that Hogwarts would be perfectly safe for students in the coming year which makes Harry snort. 

When had he ever had a safe year at Hogwarts?

Promising safety was promising something he could not give because Voldemort could very well attack the school and even if no one was hurt, that didn’t make things _safe_ Moving on to the next paper he reads a headline about Fudge’s job being under threat, ‘ _Thank Merlin, it is about time. Incompetent fool_ ’ he thinks to himself and then he moves onto the next paper which makes him flinch as he looks at a full page pictures of his own face with the headline ‘CHOSEN ONE TO SAVE US ALL?’ staring up at him. 

Anger flares in his chest and he rips open the paper to see what they are saying about him. As Pansy had hinted, the media had realised where the battle at the Ministry had taken place, attached his name and ran with it, getting dangerously close to the truth for Harry’s liking. He can already imagine the speculation when he returns to Hogwarts, the whispers around the school and for a brief second he considers a school transfer before shaking his head and closing the paper to read later. That would be running away and Hogwarts was where he needed to be even if he was dreading going back for the first time. 

It did not feel like home anymore. 

The other headlines do not jump out at him with any great importance so he folds them up and returns to the couch to wait on the twins returning. Fred returns first, with a plain brown paper bag holding Harry’s goods, and hands it over before commenting, “I should probably get back downstairs then if people see you pass with George it won’t look so suspicious than if we all appeared from the back eh?”

Harry nods and accepts the hug he is promptly seized into before Fred gives him a mocking bow and disappears back down the stairs to the shop. Harry giggles when the door shuts and wonders when his life got to the point where he considers such behaviour normal. George appears with a crack a few moments later and Harry hears rather than sees his new pet first as it shrieks loudly on George’s arm.

“Is it entirely sensible not to mention safe to apparate a bird?!” Harry splutters as George pets the owl’s head before coaxing it over to Harry’s shoulder and placing a perch on the floor.

“It isn’t any different from apparating a person and I haven’t splinched anyone yet I will have you know, Harrikins,” he replies cheerfully.

“Yet,” Harry mutters darkly before petting the owl himself, “Well, what do I have here then?”

“Standard barn owl, male, just grown up into a fully blown adult owl so you can be proud of that fact,” George states dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye while Harry raises an eyebrow at him, “Yeah, well, standard owl really. It will do the job and not be linked back to you.”

“Wicked!” Harry declares, “You will need a name won’t you?”

“They tend to come in hand my man,” George chirps in cheerfully only for Harry to glare at him and tell him to shut up, “I’m wounded!”

“You will get over it I am sure,” Harry sighs, “Anthony!”

“ _Anthony?_ " George repeats bewildered.

“Anthony,” Harry states firmly, “One day I will explain why that fits so perfectly but I can’t right now,” he explains, thinking of the code names he and Pansy have and smiling to himself. He wonders if she will pick up on it or appreciate it. He hopes one day he will be able to predict these things. It is in that moment that he realises that he wants to be Pansy’s friend. No one wants to fight a war with strangers. 

“If you say so mate,” George mutters, sounding slightly worried, “I will lead you down then. Try not to attract attention to yourself.”

“I think that is more likely in the muggle world. Walking around with a paper bag, and an owl perch is a bit odd to them,” Harry laughs before heading over to the window of the flat and giving one of the papers to Anthony and whispering the address in the owl’s ears before opening the window and throwing him out. Harry had never understood how they understood where they were meant to be going and did not think he would ever truly get it. 

George, Harry happily notices, had given him plenty of space and Harry respects that. Moving across the room with his bag and the new perch Harry gives him a nod, “Well, that is me ready. Look I’m....truly grateful for what you and Fred have done and that you listened and...well everything to be honest.”

George takes a step forward and claps him on the shoulder, “We would do it all over again without thought Harry, never doubt it. If you ever need anything we are here and if you need a place to lie low, the door is always open. The Order has better things to do with its time than stalk us which is probably a good thing because I am not entirely sure Dumbledore would approve of some of the stuff we are selling to his students through the back.”

“Enough to cause plenty of trouble I expect or I will be severely disappointed,” Harry jokes while pulling his hood back up, doubling back across the room to shove his wand in his pocket, before following George down the stairs into the store room and back into the shop. 

“Take care little brother,” George mutters to him, leaving Harry with a warm feeling in his chest as he makes his way through the throngs of customers and back into Diagon Alley. 

He does not feel safe until he is a street away from the Leaky Caldron and he is amused to see that despite his expectations he hardly gets a second glance for walking around London with a perch for a large bird which makes more sense as he crosses Leister Square and sees a man walking along with a dining room chair slung over one shoulder. Shaking his head, Harry waves through the crowds, keeping his eyes open and his guard up, as he makes his way back to the Bed and Breakfast. 

He just had to nip out and do one more thing before he could retreat to his room until dinner time.

Overall, that had been a highly productive morning.


	5. negotiating with rita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the reviews coming, I love to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> I did some interesting flames recently. I am glad to hear that Harry is coming off well as a 16 year old twat who thinks he knows better than Dumbledore. That is exactly the point. 
> 
> Do try remember that following a character's thought process does not mean the author feels the same. I love Dumbles. Flaws and all. 
> 
> But Harry spent book 5 seething and I am just taking the route of maybe he didn't calm down and confirm but instead but hacked off and went awol. I will explain how characters are and such if you want me too, not a problem. 
> 
> At the end of the day it is just a fanfic and if you don't enjoy it, please find something that you do. People have different tastes and that is what makes fanfic so cool to me. 
> 
> So, onwards! Bit shorter this chap as it is more of a connector. I kept trying to see if more of the next chapter could be slotted in but it wasn't happening and adding to this just made it feel bloated so I stripped it back again.

Pansy returns from her evening meal to find an unfamiliar plain looking owl on her bed with a package. Wearily she approaches it and checks it for any enchantments or curses, only opening it when she is fully satisfied that it is safe. 

The minute she sees _Persephone_ scrawled across the envelope stuck to the package with some strange tape substance, she raises an eyebrow and takes more interest in the owl.

“Well, I can’t accuse you of standing out from the crowd even if you are beautiful,” she mutters, “Seems Potter listened to me, which is interesting, very interesting indeed.” 

Giving the owl a scratch around the ears, Pansy leaves her room and retrieves some owl treats, feeding some to the new owl before finally opening the letter. Upon seeing Potter’s messy scrawl and she immediately screws up her face because honestly, had no one taught Potter the importance of neat handwriting and the impression it could give someone?

_Persephone,_

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Meet Anthony, I trust he will serve us well. 

I have gained the help of certain business men who wish to help in our endeavour. Enclosed are some of their products which you may find useful along with instructions I have put together for you. 

Additionally, I noticed that you didn’t look comfortable when we last saw each other so I thought I would try and help. 

Hope you are well,

Roman

Snorting, Pansy throws the letter down on the bed and sits on the edge before pulling the parcel towards her with interest. As she expects, an assorted bundle of brightly coloured Weasley products fall onto her bed when she unwraps the paper on the package and though she rolls her eyes at the concepts of some, she cannot deny that some are truly brilliant. An extendable ear will aid her in gathering her information while allowing her to remain a little further from the line of fire as it were. 

The clothes are unexpected though and her eyes widen as she pulls them out and unfolds them. A simple gray cardigan, a pair of jeans and a few coloured t-shirts are very simple and yet Pansy feels her cheeks burn at the thought that Potter had actually bought them for her. It made perfect sense of course, because she will need to blend in if she were to visit him in the muggle world again and though part of her is repulsed at the idea of wearing such clothing, the other part of her wonders how she will look in it and if people would find her attractive. 

Pansy has been known as the pug faced girl and though she had laughed, or cackled, it off the name had hurt her deeply. Yet she had grown into her body and face more as she grew older and hoped that she might be considered prettier now. People like Malfoy or Zabini only wanted one thing though, sex, and because she was not stunning it was expected that she would not dare rebuke their advances. Growing angry, both at herself and others, Pansy jumps to her feet and carries her new belongings to her wardrobe, carefully storing them out of sight so that her family do not notice them. 

Things had been tense in the Parkinson household ever since the Death Eater attack on her mother and Pansy knew her family wanted her to be safe but in the world she found herself living in, Pansy had resigned herself to realising that such a reality just did not exist. 

Pansy thinks back to the ball that the ever delightful Mrs Zabini was throwing for the summer that her father had told her about that morning. Pansy could not stand Mrs Zabini and being around a woman who had gone through that many husbands was surely dangerous and yet so many people Pansy’s age and just older would be present. It was the perfect opportunity to gain information on their activities and those of others as jealous tongues were always quick to talk. 

Pansy had not wanted to appear overly enthusiastic while agreeing to go but she can’t help but feel that much better about having done so when she folds up Harry’s letter and places it in a box charmed to only open at her touch. It had been one thing to meet Potter once but it was another thing altogether to have the Gryffindor contact her as agreed after clearly having taken her advice on board. 

 

Smiling to herself she sends a quick note off to Harry thanking him for the gifts because it is the right thing to do before heading off to find her father and describe the sort of gown she would like made for the ball. 

 

HPHPHPHP

 

Harry dedicates his days to studying his books, old and new, until he is confident that he will be able to perform a vast array of new spells when he returns to Hogwarts. It occurs to him that he will need to spend a lot of his time in seclusion practising his spell work which will perhaps not go down well with Hermione and Ron and scrambles his brain trying to remember their timetables for prefect duty and working out how much time that gives him every week where they won’t notice him gone.

Not nearly enough but is a start. 

It pains him to admit it but quidditch is probably something he just cannot justify for the following year. He has better ways to spend his time and he knows he will get a lot of stick for it but it will be worth it when he is still standing at the end of it. 

Fred and George filter information back to him about the goings on in the Order of the Phoenix and Harry is dismayed to realise they are spending too much of their time looking for him and not enough on doing something that the teenager would view is as productive. Then again, he is only sixteen and even if the muggles would not blink at him striking out on his own it is different for the magical community. He simply struggles to feel guilty about it though. Professor Snape brings back information from Death Eater meetings that allow some to be saved but Harry still feels his stomach twist when he hears about the most recent murder and the muggle news he catches on Mrs Mason’s television concerns him further. 

Lord Voldemort is growing in confidence. 

Fleur sends word that her relationship with Bill Weasley gives her reason to believe that he would be willing to ally himself to Harry if asked, as he is growing more disillusioned with Dumbledore’s ways. She also offers her services to help with Harry’s training which the young wizard readily takes her up on, immediately promising to send word of his first Hogsmeade visit so they can meet to practice. Though underestimated by many, Fleur was still a Tri-Wizard champion and a very intelligent and powerful witch. Fleur’s willingness to help him sparks a thought in Harry’s head which grows until he turns it over for a few days before sending her another note asking her to meet with him. As a part-veela Fleur has experience with trying to control her mind and emotions in order to hold back her veela powers from impacting those around her and though Harry had failed miserably to learn the art of protecting his mind from Professor Snape, perhaps there is another way to do it. As he sends Anthony off, he reasons that it never hurts to ask. 

Aside from that, Harry reaches out to Rita Skeeter and arranges a meeting. When he receives word of her agreement, it is the first time that Harry feels he is really playing with fire and that his fingers might just get burnt in the process. 

HPHPHPHPHP

The London Bridge presents a scenic backdrop for his meeting with Rita down by the riverside but more importantly, it is far enough away from others places he has been seen in public. Therefore it should make it harder to pin down the exact location of where he is staying if he is spotted by someone that might be looking for him. Or so he hopes.

Rita is wearing her usual garish skirt-suit and has a hideous green leather handbag which Harry is sure contains her quills and wand but he had stated he wanted to meet in muggle London for his own safety for a reason. It shocks him that she appears to fit in so well and for a moment he wonders about her background as he approaches her from behind and gives her a sharp tap on the shoulder, clearing his throat as he does so.

“Ah, Mr Potter, how delightful. Shall we?” 

“Rita,” Harry replies bluntly before wandering off down a random road and hearing Rita’s heels clicking along behind him on the pavement. He picks a cafe at random and leads Rita inside, satisfied that if he didn’t know where he was going it would be a hell of a lot harder to follow him anywhere. 

Harry feels it polite to get Rita a coffee, getting a coke for himself, before she takes out a muggle notepad and pen from her bag and peers at him over her glasses, “Well Mr Potter, I must say I was surprised to receive your owl. Hedwig I believe? Beautiful creature. What is it that you wish to discuss exactly? You were exceptionally....vague.”

“You are a reporter, and I have things that you will be able to report. And want to,” Harry states bluntly, “I have things to be getting on with this year, Rita, I don’t need anyone writing lies about me or jumping to conclusions.”

“With all due respect Harry, I need a little more than that. What do you have for me?” Rita asks a little firmer than before while taking a sip of her coffee and continuing to watch Harry carefully over the rim of her mug, unnerving the teenager slightly. 

“What if I gave you more of my story?” Harry asks slowly, watching with satisfaction as Rita’s eyes light up all of a sudden.

“More? And what exactly would that detail pray tell, Mr Potter?” Rita demands breathlessly, leaning forward in her seat, notepad and pen long forgotten. 

“My years at Hogwarts,” Harry answers simply, “How I fought Voldemort in my first year, a great big ugly basilisk in my second, dementors in my third. And all of that under the nose of the great Albus Dumbledore. What do you recon Rita? That sell a few papers?” Harry asks teasingly, feeling slightly repulsed at the look on Rita’s face. She looks positively hungry at the prospect before she scowls and sits back in her seat

“I assume that there will be a catch,” she asks, a sulking tone colouring her voice as Harry winces and nods, knowing this would be the difficult part. 

“Well, you can’t exactly print it right now,” Harry starts slowly, “I need to get back to Hogwarts first and once term starts you can print my story. Also, I have a feeling that in the coming year I will have a lot more work for you. And I mean a lot. Just print the truth, the facts, but apart from that I expect your usual theatrical spin. In fact I am counting on it.”

“You expect fireworks at Hogwarts, Mr Potter? And...you speak of Dumbledore with a little less...respect than I would have expected from you,” Rita states quietly. 

Harry tries his best to keep the emotions off his face, “I think it will be an emotional year with a lot of stories to tell. I can guarantee that I will only talk to you, no one else, so while other reporters can write from bare bones and whispers, you will get the main headlines.”

“I expect you will be wishing for me to have these published in that ahem alternative newspaper that you like so much,” Rita demands softly yet firmly, clearly unimpressed with the idea. 

“The Prophet denied Voldemort was back for over a year Rita, while it licked Fudge’s boots. No one in their right mind would trust it anymore and trust me, which paper it is in won’t stop people buying it when they see the headlines I have to offer,” Harry responds coldly.

“I assume you have looked into my going rates,” Rita asks sweetly, picking up her pen again, smiling when Harry nods.

“I have enough information to make my first three years at Hogwarts articles of their own and then every interview and story after that will be another pay day for you. I foresee myself needing a lot of press control and image control in the next few years. They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You are talented if wicked. I think we can make a good team. You do not strike me as a Death Eater sympathiser, Rita. Just a woman determined to get the best out of her career. I mean, I have spent a lot of time being repulsed but I can't help be impressed and respect it at the same time. Interested?” 

Rita’s smirk is indeed wicked as she pushes her cup to the side, “Why Mr Potter, I do believe this requires something a little stronger. Come with me. I will get you into a muggle bar and teach you to drink like a man the age you are acting. I do believe that it will be my absolute pleasure doing business with you.”

Harry gives her a lazy grin and rises to his feet. Albus Dumbledore was not the only man who knew how to play chess and move his pawns into positions. The difference between himself and Harry was, Rita was perfectly aware and willing to do what was asked of her with no lies. 

Rita Skeeter was going to help Harry Potter destroy the reputation of the famed Albus Dumbledore. 

 

HPHPHPHPHP

 

On his birthday, Harry wakes up in the knowledge that he is highly unlikely to receive presents from his friends given their blanking of him at the start of the summer and their undoubted disapproval of his striking out on his own at the end of it. It stings a little to have not had his usual barrage of well wishes at midnight but he tries to ignore the cold feeling in his chest by burrowing deeper under his covers. Maybe Dobby will turn up with some random bits and bobs but really, getting something from someone who has been blocked for years would feel very strange. He makes no attempt to rise from his bed until he hears a bird pecking at his window. Bleary eyed he reaches for his glasses and shoves them on before rolling out of bed and crossing the room. 

A barn owl swoops into the room and lands on his bed with a dull thump before turning to face him and hooting softly. Raising an eyebrow, Harry runs a hand through his hair as he crosses the room and moves to untie a letter a package from the bird’s leg. Opening it, he finds a card from the twins, along with a letter, wishing him happy birthday. Putting the letter to the side for the moment in case it has something to do with what Harry is starting to call his mission in his head, he rips open the package and laughs when a book entitled _‘A wizard’s guide to Witches'_ falls out onto his bed. Along with it is a smart black jacket that goes down to mid thigh when Harry holds it up against himself. Puzzled by the strange yet brilliant combination, Harry picks up the letter to see a mishmash of handwriting where the twins had clearly wrestled for control of the parchment. Somehow it just about manages to make some sort of sense, 

_Hiya Harry_

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__

Happy Birthday mate!

Hope you get into enough trouble to make us proud of you. Nothing that requires rescuing mind because we have plenty to be getting on with. Business is simply booming right now so expect plenty of high-jinks when you get back to Hogwarts.

To put it lightly Harrykins, these are dark times and you only get one chance to live and we would far rather you lived it properly. You need to get out there, see the world, experience different things and shall we say different people! Namely female people to be honest. Your track record is spectacularly appalling and needs serious work done to it. Have a read at this book and try to take some of it seriously, other parts less so, and put some of it to good use before you become The Frustrated One that everybody is talking about. 

The jacket might help you in that regard. To be blunt, you have been walking around like a bit of a scruff for a few years which will not be helping your cause with the many young ladies who are mooning after you that you are too naive to notice. It doesn’t do any harm to actually look like you have done something to deserve the attention even if your status could be helpful to us in some regards shall we say old chap! As we got one little brother some dress robes he could be seen in daylight in, we have done the same for you jacket wise. We are quite sure you will find it as dashing as the lovely fellows that gave it to you. 

We’d write more but we have better things to entertain ourselves with.

Your brothers

Gred and Feorge

After finishing the letter, Harry snorts and before he knows it he is in hysterical laughter on his bed while his two owls stare at him like he has completely lost his mind. _Mental, absolutely bloody mental,_ Harry thinks gleefully to himself, _They both belong in St Mungos. Basically they think I need a good shag. Unbelievable. Sirius would probably agree with them._

And just like that he stops laughing and the smile fade from his face as his heart clenches up a little. It still hurts. He still cannot imagine a day where it won't. Shaking himself, Harry puts his card up on the bedside table and begins to flick through his book, enjoying the half-hour of being a relatively normal boy trying to understand women before he goes down to get his birthday breakfast. 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

After Dobby has checked to make sure things are safe, Harry receives far more well wishes than normal and scowls angrily as he realises what Dumbledore has kept back from him for so many years. It is not that he feels hard done by out of cards or letters but that he had been completely unaware of the good people that were out there. It makes him wonder if he would have gotten any last year and how that would have changed his mindset going back to Hogwarts after Cedric’s death and more importantly Lord Voldemort’s return. Wondering will never change things though. He has to move on.  
It had hit Harry halfway through his scrambled eggs opposite a different but equally as stuffy business man that Fred and George had used the same phrase that Fleur had used in the bank. One chance to live. That was what Harry had. What ifs and maybes considering the past would not change what had happened, Harry had to remain positive, never give up, and look forward. 

Looking up from his plate, Harry notices a tattoo peeking out from the business man’s long sleeved shirt around his wrist and the phrase ‘une chance de vivre’ flashes through his mind once again in Fleur’s soft and enchanting voice. When he returns to his room and finds the owls sitting waiting on him with the letters he takes a moment to be grateful he had left the window open and then promptly decides he is going to get a tattoo himself. That very morning. 

It is totally out of the blue, completely on a whim, and exactly the sort of trouble the twins are likely to get themselves into so Harry finds it a very fitting time to head off into town and search for a tattoo parlour after dealing with the many owls that had delivered him post. Having heard enough of his aunt Petunia’s rants to know some are more trustworthy than others he tries to find one on what looks like a main street and in good condition. Upon finding one, Harry heads inside and immediately feels completely out of his element yet decidedly daring at the same time. 

Forty pounds and a rather uncomfortable hour later and Harry has the French phrase across the inside of his wrist in what he was informed was a very popular ‘elvish’ font. It amuses Harry greatly because he highly doubts that any writing Dobby, Winky or even Kreature, working for the Noble House of Black, would ever be as beautiful and elegant. 

It feels like the new start that he needs with his plans in motion and his contacts made. The rest of the work he feels will need to be done at Hogwarts itself and he will need to lead by example. Yet he feels ready for it, content in what he has done in a somehow panicked and slightly detached way. 

This year is going to be very different. Harry can feel it.


	6. clashing with the order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to go back to school and the Order is waiting for Harry who has plenty to say about the situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long. Really I was just dreading having to deal with all the coding and such given how different fanfiction.net and ao3 are. I have also been spending a lot less time at my computer in general in an effort to improve my mental health and also to get myself to read more books. Thank you for all of you who continue to like, follow, favourite ect this story and myself. I hope that you continue to enjoy it going forward. 
> 
> ayebydan x

September first is a cold and nippy morning that has children who expected an autumn day searching through their trunks for their robes the minute they get themselves on to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Harry is fully aware when he paid Mrs Mason for the last time and thanked her for her hospitality that he had no chance of getting on to the train undetected and he is proved right not two minutes after he has stepped onto the platform when a gnarled hand clenches his shoulder and spins around him on his feet. 

“Potter! Where the devil have you been?” Mad-Eye Moody barks at him.

Harry, trying to look braver than he currently feels, eyes him coldly before shaking the arm off his shoulder, “I have been grieving my godfather and then enjoying my summer, Sir. It is the general idea of the holidays after all. It was a long year you see.”

He notices Remus, Kingsley, Tonks and a few other members of the order that he does not recognise forming a group around him and casually scans the crowd for any of his friends. The Weasleys stand out immediately, flaming red hair catching his eye as Molly glowers at him while standing in front of Ron and Ginny whose expressions Harry cannot read but they make no move to help him. Hermione stands off to the side looking nervous while Neville looks on with interest. Harry turns his attention back to Moody who takes a step closer to him. 

“Do you have any idea how many hours we spent looking for you, Potter?”

“Clearly not enough,” Harry snaps back, his anger flaring as he curls his hand around his wand in his coat pocket, “Send a letter every three days Harry! We will be there when you need us Harry! Don’t worry about a damn thing Harry! You won’t be there long Harry! Yeah?! Well I didn’t send the letters did I? Because once again there were locks on my window and I noticed that after waking up from a good old fashioned muggle beating from my darling uncle that you so thoroughly threatened at the end of last term! No one appeared to check on that did they, Moody? Not hours spent with me then, were they?”

With that Harry turns on his heel and makes his way towards the train. He makes it two steps before Mad-Eye has grabbed him again, “I do not have time for your dramatics, Potter.”

“And I did not have time in general. If I stayed I might not be getting on this train. Now, a whole platform of people are standing around watching you manhandle the man they think is the Chosen one. Are you really going to make a scene? Nott looks to be salivating at the thought,” Harry hisses, pulling his arm free once again.

Moody glowers at him, both eyes fixed on Harry as the teen turns his attention to Remus, “And where the hell were you?! You lost your best friend but I lost my godfather and bloody hell Remus, did you really think I would be ok locked up there alone trying to grieve for the only man who has ever put me first?!”

“Harry that is not-” Remus begins. 

“It is true,” Harry seethes, “You all know it is. You left me in that house, broke your own promises to check on me and told me nothing which is precisely what got me into trouble last year and cost Sirius his life. Secrets! Well, I’m done with it. Done with the ruddy lot of you. You can all go to hell, or whatever sort of bad life after death you folks believe in anyway. I wouldn't know! No one ruddy told me! ”

After glowering at each member of the Order individually, Harry hurries onto the train with his things and lets out a sigh of relief. It had not been pretty but it could have been far worse he reasons to himself. After their behaviour on the platform, or lack thereof, Harry immediately turns left and heads further down the train and away from Ron and Hermione, looking for a friendly face or empty compartment. The reaction of his classmates are all noted and carefully stored away in the back of his mind. Some of the dark and glowering looks from the previous year are gone; some replaced with respect others with wonder and a hint of fear. Others were very clearly looking Harry up and down to try and determine his worth, his capabilities, and that irks him as he hauls his trunk and Hedwig along behind him, Anthony having already been instructed to fly to Hogwarts. Harry just hoped that there was nothing in place to actually check how many animals someone turned up with. 

Harry prides himself on not reacting when he passes a compartment that contains Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. 

It is as he passes compartments full of people that he knows but doesn’t _know_ that Harry realises just how few close friends he has. Apart from Ron and Hermione, he had not spent a great deal of time interacting with others at Hogwarts and that is something that he needs to work on. Finding an empty compartment, Harry drags his trunk inside and tucks it away before setting Hedwig’s cage down at his feet.

“There we go girl. I will let you would as soon as the train gets out into the country and you can fly on from there. I didn’t want to be seen chucking two owls out of my window this morning. I think Mrs Mason was starting to realise I was a bit different,” Harry jokes to the snowy owl that just tilts her head and looks at him. 

He hears the whistle being blown and the doors of the train being slammed shut and feels himself become a little edgier as he waits for the inevitable knock on his compartment. Sure enough, not five minutes later the door bursts open, and Ginny Weasley all but throws her trunk into the compartment before slamming the door shut behind her and leaning against it with a heavy sigh while Harry stares at her stupidly. 

“Um, hi Ginny,” Harry tries after Ginny takes a moment to right herself before levitating her trunk up on to the storage shelf beside Harry’s. 

“Hey Harry,” Ginny says sadly while curling her feet under her on the seat opposite Harry, “I saw what happened with the members of the Order that were waiting on you.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Yeah? I more saw how no one came over to hear my side from your family.”

Ginny squirms uncomfortably and glances at the door before throwing some privacy wards at it, “Yeah, about that. I wanted to talk to you about our summer. And tell you that I completely support what you did. I mean, I don’t know what you have been doing but I would never stay with those awful people if I had a way out either.”

Harry studies her for a moment, not used to really sharing all that much time with the youngest Weasley, before nodding slowly. He has to start somewhere. “What were you told?”

“That when Moody was on watch, he realised you had disappeared. The Order searched your house and spoke to your aunt who said that you had left of your own free will and were not going back and you were not welcome to do so. Headquarters has moved and we don’t know where to so I only know what I overheard from mum but she thought it was really irresponsible and apparently Dumbledore had told you something that should mean you should know better and...well we get the papers,” Ginny mumbles awkwardly, wringing her hands in her lap. 

“So, basically they think I was being irresponsible. I take it Hermione stayed at yours at some point during the Summer?” Harry demands haughtily, Ginny’s guilty look answering him instantly, “Yeah so I am sure she had plenty to say on the subject too. Neither of them bothered to owl me you know. No one bothered to ask if I was ok or where I was. No, the precious Order just skulked around under invisibility cloaks trying to capture me and take me back to my relatives!”

“Why did you leave then?” Ginny asks quietly. 

“Because it was no longer safe,” Harry answers simply, before snorting and laughing bitterly which makes Ginny stare at him in alarm, “By that I mean it was even worse than usual. They beat me and locked my windows. Hedwig was locked out and when I didn’t owl the Order within three days no one came. Someone was supposed to come. So I left.” 

Ginny looks taken aback at the thought, like she can see another layer of the ‘boy who lived’ that she had idolised as a child being chipped away in front of her. He was no prince and she was certainly never going to be his princess. Having spent a year coming closer to that conclusion, as Harry turns his attention to the widow as they leave the station, Ginny realises the situation in full. She never had a chance with Harry. He just wasn’t interested. Thinking on the way she had barged into the carriage it was clear he was bewildered that she was sitting with him at all. The pair were not friends and never really had been. He was the boy who had been the hero in her bedtime stories and who went on to save her from the monster but Harry had other things to deal with now that didn’t include her being deluded about her position in his life. Being beaten up by his relatives just didn’t fit with the idea she had of him in her head because she just does not know him at all. Perhaps she can change that. 

Observing him a little more critically, Ginny can see the worried look in his eyes, the way he is pressed against the compartment wall and glances at the door every so often as if waiting for someone to arrive, someone that might want to cause him harm. 

“Look....we got told not to contact you this summer,” Ginny begins, deciding that Harry needs a friend and some honesty and that she can offer him both, “Mum said that Dumbledore felt you were distraught over Sirius, that you had really struggled with things and tried to hide it at school and it might be best to just leave you be to come to terms with things. Also...well we knew you would want information and we didn’t really have any to give you at the time so I guess it just...I mean I don’t write to you because we have never been that close but Ron and Hermione...”

“Ron and Hermione didn’t. That kind of hurts Ginny,” Harry mutters. 

“I know,” Ginny blushes, “They will be here soon you know.”

“Yeah. I am not sure how I will handle it to be honest. I don’t have time for arguments with friends this year. There is a war on Gin. Things are more serious now. _That_ is part of what I came to terms with this summer,” Harry scoffs just as Hermione bustles into the compartment as predicted. Ginny's wards are in pieces and the redhead seems both stunned and furious. 

“There you are!” she exclaims and it is completely disapproving and immediately sets Harry on edge as Ron slinks in behind her, “We have been looking all over for you.”

“I wasn’t exactly hiding,” Harry mutters. 

Hermione huffs at him, pulling her baggage along behind her before she sits down beside him, eyeing Hedwig’s cage with disapproval, as Ron throws himself onto the seat opposite her and beside Ginny who scowls at him. 

“Hello to you too! Yeah, sure you can sit there!” she snaps at him. 

“Well why wouldn’t I be able to?” Ron demands accusingly, “What are you even doing here? Go sit with your own friends!”

Both Harry and Hermione turn to look at Ginny whose cheeks fill with colour as she clenches her fists at her sides, “I am sitting with Harry! And since he was here first and has not asked me to leave then I will continue to do so and if you don’t like it Ronald Weasley then you can bugger off!”

The Weasley siblings descend into an argument and Harry merely shakes his head and returns his gaze to the window, ignoring Hermione and waiting for her to speak to him. Her rather abrupt entrance and immediate scolding had done nothing to improve Harry’s mood or convince him that he really wanted to talk to either of them or forgive them for their silence over the summer. The reasons, or more excuses, that Ginny had offered him just don't sit right with Harry.

“So Harry....where have you been?” Hermione questions carefully when Ron and Ginny finally stop their bickering. Ginny looks cautious while Ron looks like he has finally noticed that Harry is actually there for the first time.

“Yeah mate, we got told you just did a bunk one night. Why did you not come to ours?”

Harry is silent for a moment, carefully thinking over how he should respond, his mind going a mile a minute, “ You remember when you rescued me before second year? Well it was like that. I didn’t want to end up back at Headquarters and I...look I have important things to do and...I didn’t think your mum would let me do it,” he finishes, a bit looking guilty but mostly uncomfortable. 

“Mum would not have let you leave the house but we were not kept inside or anything mate. You should have come,” Ron chastises, in his own way. 

“Clearly, Harry has been going elsewhere this summer,” Hermione cuts in haughtily, crossing her arms as she turns slightly to get a better look at him, “So, what have you been doing? People were looking for you of course. You really should have told them where you were!”

“Uh, no one asked me Hermione! It wasn’t like I was overwhelmed with owls over the summer!” Harry responds sarcastically, pondering just that because with the enchantment lifted he had expected to be and growing irritated and yet another reminder that the Order had clearly looked for him but they had never bothered to just ask. Not that Harry would have told them but to the irritated teen that was hardly the point. 

“What do you mean no one asked you?” Hermione demands with a frown, her voice a little softer this time and Harry wonders if there might be some progress to be had.

“No one asked me! I didn’t get any letters from you guys which I was pissed off about but whatever, I’m sure Dumbledore had given you some shiny instructions. But yeah, I didn’t hear from the Order to ask where I was. They just skulked around after me under invisibility cloaks and gave me a row for leaving my house during the summer like any other teenager would,” Harry rants, feeling his blood starting to boil as Hermione looks caught between understanding and her never ending respect for authority. 

“That seems very strange. That they did not send you an owl I mean. I mean, if they had just turned up and grabbed you to take you back...”

“It would have been kidnapping?” Harry offers sarcastically, “Yeah. Look, this is war guys. And I am part of it. You were all there in the Department of Mysteries last year and you know there was a prophecy. No, I am not going to tell you what it said, for your own safety as much as anything but believe me, I cannot sit around and do nothing. I have got to prepare. I have got to be ready because Voldemort,” Harry states passionately, ignoring the two flinches from the Weasley children, “is not going to just let me get on with my school work like a good boy as the Order wants me to. He is delusional and focussed on me, which is a dangerous combination and if the Order won’t do anything about it then...I guess that I will have to.”

Hermione looks slightly uncomfortable while Ron frowns and Ginny looks anxious as she speaks up, “Why won’t you just say it Harry? I mean, all the papers are speculating about you being...”

“The papers are just printing rubbish as usual!”

“You don’t want the other side to know anything for sure. In war...if people know for sure, things tend to be far more violent and deadly than if there is still an air of uncertainty,” Hermione remarks quietly. 

“It is like chess in a way,” Ron chips in, causing the other three occupants of the compartment to turn and stare at him in shock before Harry snorts and dissolves into laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah you are right mate. This is like one blood big and really weird game of chess,” Harry cackles as Hermione stares at him alarmed and Hedwig hoots loudly in her cage. 

“Well it is,” Ron mutters defiantly, directing his next comments at a sceptical looking Hermione, “Just because someone knows where you are going to go because it is blatantly obvious doesn’t mean that you should admit to it. Then you leave the seed of doubt for them to do something stupid and create an ever bigger opportunity for yourself.”

“I guess,” Hermione mutters, seeming to be genuinely bewildered that he had come up with something that actually made sense. 

“I’m still irritated that you didn’t come over but I can get how you would be upset that we didn’t write. Dumbledore and then mum reckoned you would be cut up about Sirius and I know he meant a lot to you,” Ron remarks, shifting uncomfortably, “I know you had wanted to live with him when his name was cleared and I thought it was best to leave you be. I didn’t know what to say really and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. Leaving your relatives and roaming around yourself was not smart though, especially as you are not of age yet but...you are here and in one piece I guess.”

With that Ron shrugs and Harry feels a sense of contentment settle over him. He has Ron with him, as his friend at the very least though whether he would trust him as an ally to stand with him wand to want again was another matter. It was something that had plagued Harry’s mind at different points over the summer. Agreeing to stand by him when they had never actually faced the same things Harry had was one thing but to have faced Death Eaters and fought for their lives was another. Asking them to do it again was not something Harry really wanted to do because he was not sure what their answers would be. 

“Thanks mate. So, what, tell me about your summers and what you are thinking cause...this year is going to be different. Hell, this year is going to be _big_ ,” Harry queries as the trolley appears outside their compartment, giving them a moment to think as he buys them an assortment of goodies before locking the doors again. 

“Well, my parents took me away to France again which was interesting,” Hermione begins when Harry has returned to his seat, careful to not jostle the cage of the now sleeping Hedwig, “And...we talked about what has been happening a little. Not in details of course but...well they worry about me but I said I could not leave and hide.”

“You know, I don’t think there will be anywhere _to_ hide” Ginny pipes up, startling Harry who had almost forgotten that she was even there, “People tried to hide before but...he always found them in the end.”

Her gaze finds Harry and his stomach squirms uncomfortably. ‘ _He would not have found my parents if that rat was the friend that they thought he was_.’ Harry thinks viciously to himself. Ginny looks away, pink tinge to her cheeks, and Hermione, noticing the tension, continues talking to break it. 

“The Department of Mysteries....it changed things. We are not children anymore. We cannot act like children. Oh Harry, I do not want you to think that I was....getting at you in some ways, I was just worried and scared and things are so dangerous right now that I don’t want you wandering around by yourself if you are going to get hurt!” she cries, and Harry, feeling a surge of guilt and regret for what he had thought of her over the summer and on the platform, reaches out and puts an arm around her which she immediately leans in to. Both Ron and Ginny look slightly uncomfortable and Harry is not entirely sure what he is meant to say.

“I ...I get that Hermione but you said it yourself, we are not kids anymore. We fought in this war, actually fought which is more than can be said for a lot of the members of the Order, sorry guys but like your mum. Dumbledore and his crowd...they had their chance to end this before we were born and if they had dealt with things then we would not have to,” Harry states firmly, causing Ron to look at him in disbelief. 

“Crikey Harry, are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“I guess that depends on what you think I am saying,” Harry jokes but it falls flat as Ron frowns at him. 

“It sounds like you want us to fight this war on our terms instead of working with the Order,” Ron accuses; Ginny glancing at her brother before nodding. 

“I think it is our future that is at stake,” Harry begins slowly, “And I don’t trust Dumbledore’s attempt to fight for it.”

“He has had power an awfully long time,” Hermione injects pensively, pulling away from Harry to sit up and falling into bookworm mode almost like a physical transformation, “I mean, he is the leader of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts....sometimes it seems like he believes that he knows best and...”

“And that he should not be questioned?” Harry pipes up, “Yeah. There are so many things that just don’t add up guys and I’m not comfortable with them. If he was so powerful then...”

“Then why was the Philosopher’s Stone hidden in the school in our first year and why could we get past the enchantments. I mean Hermione is brilliant and all but she was twelve years old,” Ron scoffs, making Hermione blush slightly as she nods. 

“And the chamber. Why did he not figure that out? Why was it Harry that had to fight the Basilisk. Surely he must have suspected it was Tom,” Ginny half whispers, looking haunted at the very mention of her first year. 

“And why, did he not realise that Moody was an imposter as he sat beside him for a whole year when he supposedly fought a war with the man!” Hermione half shouts, as if the thought has just occurred to her.

“It just doesn’t add up,” Ginny mutters darkly, “I mean, it _really_ doesn’t. I didn’t want to admit it but...that is not _right_. And....well, he left you there.” Harry turns to look at her with wide eyes, suddenly very grateful that he had not shoved his owl up onto a rack somewhere or woke her up to let her fly to the castle so that she was still a block between himself and the youngest Weasley who seems to be looking at him with a whole new mindset, “You were abused. And he _left_ you there.”

“Merlin’s hairy ball sack, Harry! You’re right! We do need to fight this war! And we need to do it without the others!” Ron exclaims suddenly, “We need to...I don’t know, learn to duel and learn how to defeat old Snakeface and I don’t know _win_!" 

The final word resonates around the compartment and everyone stares at Ron before Harry breaks out into a grin and finally begins to explain what he had been doing over the summer with reading books and writing down things he felt he had to do, only leaving out his meetings with the twins and Pansy. 

He had not been counting on his friends coming around to his way of thinking and shakes himself for ever doubting them. If one thing was constant, it was that despite their arguments Ron and Hermione were always there and having Ginny on his side was not something he was about to turn down either.


End file.
